


The Offering

by Ratikait



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hand Jobs, Historical, Horror, Masturbation, Plague, Whipping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2020-12-27 03:15:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 43,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21111758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ratikait/pseuds/Ratikait
Summary: The 10th Chapter is now available to read!In May of 1348, the plague swept through Orvieto, Italy with no resistance to be found. A mysterious caravan arrived bringing the unseen Emeritus Brothers to a fortress on the hill. They offered respite from the creeping death to the city... at a terrible price. Daughters of Orvieto were offered to the masters on the hill and never seen again. One such daughter slowly uncovers the reasons behind their presence.





	1. Prologue: Orvieto

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An brief introduction to the story that lies ahead. Subsequent chapters will be longer in length.

_Orvieto, Umbria, Italy - May, 1348_

The pestilence had swept through Italy steadily for half a year before it reached the city of Orvieto and the fledgling towns beyond. City streets were laid bare and fields were left to rot. Citizens confined themselves in their homes in the hope of sealing out the sickness.

It persisted.

Entire families were laid to waste, buried swiftly and none too deep. As the population dwindled, the only recourse was prayer and the hope that the pestilence would move on.

Following months of putrid death, a massive chain of caravans was witnessed approaching a long abandoned fortress. They arrived in the night, transporting elegant furniture and goods. Strange religious relics decorated the caravans and carriages. St. Peter's cross adorned several surfaces.

Townsfolk whispered about the caravans, many hopeful that a new religious presence may provide some resistance against the blight. Within a fortnight of the curious arrival, a messenger arrived at the meeting of the city elders. His appearance was strange, a metal mask covered his face and he did not speak. He brought with him a proposition from the new masters of the fortress.

The masters claimed they could stem the pestilence. For a week, they gave their solemn vow that no man, woman or child would die by the plague that had ravaged them so brutally. In turn, on the seventh day, they would require undisclosed recompense. The message went on to say that the townspeople were most welcome to refuse, but the pestilence would return.

Hope spread widely throughout the city. Two days passed without a death being reported and the optimism mounted. Two more days passed and those who were previously ill began to show improvement. By the sixth day, all signs of the plague had lifted. People came out into the streets in celebration. Children enjoyed the newfound freedom and fresh air. Tributes and gifts were left en masse at the gates of the fortress. Prayers of thanks were shouted through the bars.

On the seventh day, the faceless messenger returned with his masters' terms. Elder Donato read the message aloud, which began with a cordial greeting and reminder of the masters' miraculous service. As Elder Donato reached their request, he grew quiet. The others in attendance whispered amongst themselves. Surely, anything they might require would be worth the safety of the people.

Elder Pietro Gallo took the letter from Donato and read the request.

"Lord in Heaven," he crossed himself. "They require a maiden who has flowered."

"For what purpose?" a fellow elder asked.

"They make no mention of it," Pietro answered and handed him the letter.

"What shall they do with this maiden?!" An angry elder demanded of the messenger.

"What they wish," the faceless man replied. It was the first time he had spoken and his voice was a deep, thundering wave of sound.

"Will she come to harm?" Another elder asked.

"Should they wish."

"If we refuse, as they assured we may?" Donato wondered, knowing already the dreadful response.

"Death will descend." The faceless man cast his hand over those in attendance. "One life… could save all lives."

Donato nodded. "Might we take the night to consider? A messenger shall be sent to the fortress in the early morning."

The mask tilted to the side.

"Agreeable," he answered and stalked from the assembly hall. The elders followed him out and watched his ascent to the fortress.

Elder Pietro grasped Elder Donato's shoulder.

"This cannot be allowed to pass. We cannot ask our people to sacrifice a child. Not after all they have lost, not more!" He pleaded.

Donato laid a sympathetic hand over his friend's.

"How many could be saved? Surely the loss of one child for the succor of many is the greater good. Our Lord and position asks us to make the difficult decisions for the many," he raised his voice so that all could hear. "It is a sacrifice that God has asked of many believers, and now he offers us the chance to correct whatever injustices caused this pestilence in the first place."

Elder Guilio gave a shout of agreement. He notably had no daughters. Others murmured their assent. Pietro saw that he was swiftly losing ground on the matter.

"Stefano, Paulo, will you offer your daughters?!" He called out over the din.

"None have flowered," Stefano replied.

"None are maidens," Paulo retorted, somewhat ashamed, but glad they were not in danger.

"Who would we ask then? To condemn their child to an unknown fate, to unknown masters?" Elder Pietro grew angry and accusatory. "To be eaten or murdered? To be ravished or tortured? To be enslaved?"

"If we make the decision, it should be one of our children," Elder Guilio said readily.

"You've no daughter to offer, you stand on shaking ground!" Pietro shouted.

"My Vittoria…" Elder Jacopo said softly. "I would offer them my Vittoria, if it would save my other children."

Jacopo had eleven remaining children, four had already been taken by the pestilence.

"I would hope they treat her well. If they are messengers of God and have saved us, they cannot be monsters," he reasoned. "I won't bury another child."

The man began to sob quietly.

Pietro crouched before him. "You do not need to do this, perhaps we can offer them something else. Anything else. With health, we can bring them any crop they like. Money, service, land, there must be something else to entice them."

"You are right, Pietro," Donato agreed suddenly. "We might try to find another solution. In the morning, we will send someone with a draft of offerings. Perhaps they might see reason."

The anger in Pietro quieted. "Yes, if it would only delay them, that would give us more time to consider."

Donato clapped him on the back and dismissed the committee for the night. They agreed to convene early the next morning to conduct a message to the masters on the hill.

* * *

Pietro woke the next morning to attend the meeting. He glanced in to see his children sleeping soundly before he left for the assembly hall. He took special care to look after his eldest daughter, Mercedes.

When he reached the assembly hall, it was silent as he entered. The others had already arrived.

"What is the meaning of this? Who is scribing?" He asked, breaking the stillness.

"The letter has been written and delivered," Donato replied, his voice quaking.

Pietro saw all elders in attendance.

"By whom?" He demanded.

Jacopo stood, a sniveling, ragged mess of a man.

"Vittoria."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. Also, a dear reader asked that it be made clear the main character is not underage.


	2. Chosen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another daughter of Orvieto is chosen and delivered to her captors on the hill, but the prison that awaits her is not what she expected.

_Orvieto, Umbria, Italy - October, 1348_

Six months had passed since the Masters Emeritus arrived on the hill. They were true to their word and the city thrived, slowly regaining its former power. Every two months the masters requested a fresh flowered maiden.

Vittoria had been the first. Her father sent her to the fortress under the pretense that she carried a letter of goodwill and gratitude. She did not return from her journey up the hill. At first the elders agonized over the loss of the dear girl, but as life improved they did not seem to dwell on her potential demise.

When the masters sent their faceless messenger two months later with words of thanks and glad tidings, the letter ended with a request for another maiden.

Jacopo, father of Vittoria, blanched and asked what became of his child.

"Do not fret, she pleased my masters," the masked man replied.

"Does she live?" Jacopo wondered, grasping the messenger's arm.

The faceless man struck a curt, back-handed blow to his face that brought Jacopo to his knees.

"She served well, that is enough," the messenger growled. He looked to Elder Donato. "Another. Tomorrow." Then he darted from the gathering.

The second was Maria, daughter of Stefano, who had unfortunately bled for the first time a week before the messenger arrived. She was chosen by way of a privately conducted lottery. The lottery consisted of the daughters of the elders only. Stefano refused to give her up and was seized and jailed until after the following morning.

Maria was also seized and held in the very room that the third chosen, Mercedes Gallo found herself in. The elders and townspeople feared that the chosen may run or attempt to undo that which made her so desirable to the masters on the hill. They had also warned her against taking her own life.

"Your fate is uncertain, but hellfire surely awaits you should you choose death by your own hand," Elder Donato assured Mercedes as she was stripped down to her chemise. "Your sacrifice honors all of Orvieto and we shall celebrate your family's offering."

Mercedes did not struggle. Her father, Pietro, had been taken prisoner in the same manner that Stefano had. She feared he would suffer retribution for any misbehavior on her part.

"I ask that you take gentle care of my dear father, Elder Donato. I shall do what you ask, only spare him any injustice," she pleaded.

"She is much more amenable than Stefano's daughter," Elder Guilio praised most satisfactorily. "I've never heard a girl shriek like that."

"Guilio, please refrain at once!" Donato said sharply.

Mercedes swallowed hard. She imagined the screams of Maria echoing off the walls.

"Might you write a note on my behalf, Elder Donato? For my father and siblings?" She asked kindly. "I would like a chance to bid them farewell."

Donato nodded. "Of course, dear girl. Guilio, bring me something to write with."

They awaited Guilio's return and then Donato asked her to begin.

"Thy Lord watches over me and pray - have no fear for me," Mercedes began. "I leave you all with my love and memory. I shall pray for you as long as I am able. Giac, be strong for father. Elena, be obedient and kind."

She paused and felt an agonizing dread fill her as she thought of her youngest brother, Matteo.

"I would like Matteo to have my gittern, as he has always admired it… but he must practice each day, or he will never gain a measure of skill." Mercedes glanced at the pile of her clothes that Giulio was gathering. A gleam from polished wood caught her eye.

"Please see that my sister Elena receives my rosary?" She requested. Her pale hand rested on Donato's. "She will be without a woman in the house and will need much guidance from Our Lord and the Blessed Virgin."

The more she spoke, the more difficult Donato found the prospect of delivering her to the fortress the following morning. She seemed somehow already resigned to her fate and if Guilio were not there, he suspected he would have freed her.

"To my father." A tear ran free from her watering eyes. "For… forgive them for what they have done. It is not out of spite, but necessity."

Her breath hitched before she collected herself.

"Find comfort in knowing that one day God will accept us into his Holy embrace and we will meet again," she ended.

Elder Donato finished writing and inserted the note into his pocket. Afterward, he stood and wrapped his arms around Mercedes.

"I wish there were another way," he cried in her ear. "Forgive us, dear child."

She clutched him close, though he was the man who sealed her fate. In the comfort of the embrace, she felt her soul reaching out to her father. Then suddenly Donato pulled away at Guilio's insistence.

"We must go, no second thoughts," Guilio chastised him.

Donato nodded resolutely and they left Mercedes alone in her makeshift prison. She heard the key slide into the lock, shutting her in until the next morning's journey. Left in the mire of her thoughts, misery started to seep into her. She had been taken so suddenly, there was no time for any good bye. The last memory of her siblings would be the confusion and terror on their faces as men they had known their entire lives tore their eldest sister from her slumber.

Matteo was her little darling, her dearest companion. She closed her eyes and saw his screaming face as he tried to grip her hand. Tears flowed down her cheeks in earnest, and she began to pace. The sun set and she looked out the barred window toward the stars.

"Hail, Mary, mother of mercies, for who I am named, the Lord is with you; blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. Amen." She repeated her prayer until it became a small frantic whisper.

She sobbed into her hands briefly and when she lifted her head, she let out a short, sharp scream before falling backwards onto the dirt floor.

The shining face of a demon peered in through the bars. It seemed eyeless and bore horns. She shuffled back against the door and began beating it in horror.

"Demon!" Mercedes called over her shoulder. She did not dare remove her eyes from it. "Donato, I beg you! Dear merciful God, open the door!"

The devil tilted his head this way and that before slowly backing away into darkness.

She remained clawing at the thick wooden door in horrified silence until morning. Her eyes did not leave the bars, fearing the creature would return. The only sound was the scraping of her fingernails across the grain.

* * *

Donato and Guilio found Mercedes huddled against the door the following morning. Her once bright eyes were sunken and dull. Tears stained her face and dried blood coated her hands. She trembled, but found her eyelids heavy. Every other movement was to force herself from unwanted sleep.

“Guilio, bring water, we must wash her best we can,” Donato ordered. He crouched beside Mercedes.

“There was a devil outside. He came from the hill, I know he came from the hill…” she muttered softly. “They’re demons, Donato.”

Donato rested a hand on her cheek and shook his head.

“They are our saviors,” he said as she continued to worry herself over the creature she had seen.

Guilio returned with a basin of water and Donato gently cleaned her face and hands. Two of her fingernails broke away entirely as he bathed them. Fresh blood escaped a few of the wounds. He wrapped them gently in linen before lifting her from the ground.

“Will they accept her damaged?” Guilio wondered.

Donato shot him a hateful glare. “Ready the wagon, I will secure her.”

With a countenance of deep shame, Donato removed a hempen rope from a satchel at his side.

“We cannot allow you to escape, forgive me.” Slowly and with great care, he tied her arms behind her back and her ankles close enough together that she could not run. “Will you scream?” He asked and brought a length of rope near her mouth.

Tears fell anew as she shook her head. He led her outside where a massive procession was waiting. The wagon she was to board sat at the front. Hundreds of citizens behind it shouted and cried and professed their gratitude for her sacrifice. Flowers were thrown at her feet. Woman bowed and kissed the skirt of her shift. The cacophony was deafening and she shuffled her feet, tripping forward on the rope.

Donato and Guilio lifted her into the wagon and situated themselves. Donato stood and recited some Latin prayer that Mercedes could not understand and then they were moving. She sat facing forward, but could hear the stamping of those marching behind. It reminded her of a funeral procession, as if they were certain she was all but dead.

As they mounted the hill and the fortress came into view, all of her trembling faded and a numb fear tingled up through her spine. She felt sick to her stomach, but there was nothing in it to empty. At the crest of the hill, the massive gates came into view. A figure stood waiting just outside. Mercedes recognized his face as they drew closer. It was the face of the demon she had seen the previous night.

Her fear faltered, because in daylight it was clear the creature before them was merely a man in a metal mask. She sighed, feeling embarrassed and desperately foolish for her reaction to him the previous night. His masters must have sent him to survey their offering. Her fingers throbbed and she flexed them. Though only a man, she had never been more frightened in her life.

The wagon jerked to a stop and a small quake of despair began in her jaw. The townspeople had grown eerily quiet and she heard the dry dirt crunching under a single set of footsteps. From the corner of her eye she saw a dark shape and a gleaming mask. She turned haltingly toward him and stared down. His head tilted this way and that as it had the night before.

“Quiet. Good,” the faceless man said and extended a hand to her. Mercedes showed him that her hands were tied behind her back and he recoiled when he saw her bandages. The masked man’s head snapped toward Donato. In daylight, she saw flashing pale eyes beneath the mask. He looked back at her, his eyes no longer fierce and gestured for her to move closer. When she did he grasped her waist, hoisted her from the wagon and set her on the ground beside him. He took hold of her tied wrists and pressed her forward.

“Through the gates,” he ordered. When she was within, she gaped at the fortress. No one had ever been so close. Not for centuries. The masked man locked the gate behind them and she turned. Townsfolk began lying more offerings of food and wares at the entrance. She heard her name called reverently and wished with all of her soul that she could turn back.

“Move!” He pushed her and she obeyed. Massive turrets towered above them, the fortress itself blotted out the sun from their view. It was strong, impenetrable and ominous. When they crossed the footbridge and reached the guardhouse, the masked man looked up toward the battlement and made a circular motion with his hand. A massive wooden drawbridge lowered before them and Mercedes saw the keep that lie ahead.

Where the outer walls were plain and unwashed, the keep before her stood gleaming and ornamented with masterfully cut obsidian spires. The closer they drew, she spied words carved neatly into the stones. She had never wished that she could read more, perhaps the carvings would give her some indication of her fate. Intricately hewn double-doors guarded the entrance to the keep. Depictions of biblical horrors had been chiseled in and lacquered to a near black. These carvings she understood.

The masked man wrenched the door open and ushered her inside. An enormous tapestry of three men praying to an angel with blackened wings was hung directly across from the entrance. The muscles in her stomach clenched. The angel was fearsome and snarling. The men were bare and wore expressions of ecstasy.

A set of stairs rested on either side of the entrance, one up and one down. To her surprise, the man led her upward. Surely the dungeon was below. Perhaps she was to meet her masters, she thought.

The stairs were slow work with her feet tied. The masked man removed a dagger from his belt and sawed through the rope.

"Thank you, sir," she whimpered and kept pace.

"I would be upon you before you could consider running," he assured her ominously.

They climbed another stair and then continued down a lengthy, dimly lit corridor. At the end of the corridor, the faceless man pulled her to a stop. He nodded to the last door on the right.

"Inside," he instructed and unlatched the door.

A grand bedroom met her eyes on the other side of the door. At its center a fine, luxurious bedstead was covered with brocades, furs and silks. There was a fireplace crackling with a pot hanging above. Next to the fire sat a tented wooden basin. Flowery scented steam rose from the tub. The ceiling was high and streams of deep red and black fabric hung above their heads. A set of windows oversaw the city below.

"This room is at your disposal," the man explained. "Only this room."

He took up her long, dark plait and ran it under his nose.

"Like a stable," he tutted and shook his head.

"My father is an hostler**¹**, sir," she replied. She assisted with the horses each day and their home was indeed just off of the stables.

He pushed her toward the basin near the hearth.

"My masters shall wish you cleansed of your baseborn stench," he informed her and pulled back the tent. Delightful steamed aromas that she had never known flooded the air. "Get in."

Mercedes looked between him and the steaming water. Carefully she lifted a foot and stepped in. It was near scalding, but she remained silent.

"Sit." He stared at her, waiting.

Her legs would not bend. She was no lady, but every lesson in common decency she had been taught forbid it. She shook her head and closed her eyes.

"You were doing so well," she heard him say. "Have no fear, but I may be forced to help you sit if you cannot manage it yourself."

Eyes still closed, she sunk down into the water. Humiliated, she opened her eyes. He moved behind and pulled her tied wrists back over her head. She felt a sponge under her and shifted to rest her bottom on it.

He took hold of her plait once more and began loosing it. Slowly, he submerged it in the water. When it was soaking wet, he went over it with a sponge, scrubbing out the scent of beast of burden. Satisfied with her hair, he ladled the perfumed water over her face. Even with closed eyes the herbs and crushed flowers stung fiercely.

When she was properly washed, he ordered her to stand. She did so sheepishly, knowing full well that her wet chemise would hide nothing. Without warning, he doused her with another pot of water, rinsing away the last remnants of filth.

"Out." He tugged her wrists. When she climbed onto the floor boards, he readied his dagger and cut her hands free. Then he reached for the bottom of her chemise.

"Please, no," Mercedes begged.

"Then change yourself," he ordered.

He turned his back to her. She pulled her wet underclothes off and covered herself. Still turned around, he offered her a clean, dry chemise. She dressed herself as swiftly as she was able.

"You are far less difficult than the others," he admitted flatly as he rounded on her and drew an elegant, silk burgundy kirtle over her shoulders. A black velvet overdress without sleeves followed. He tied the overdress briskly on each side and bent to roll black hose up each of her legs.

He dragged a wooden stool toward her and motioned for her to sit. She faced a looking glass and saw the finery she wore clearly. No highborn women in Orvieto had ever worn a more exquisite ensemble, of that she felt certain.

The masked man took up a thin leather cord and wove it intricately through her hair. When he finished, a beautiful plait decorated her head. As she gazed at her reflection in awe, he placed a black caul with silver embroidery gently upon her head. He bent close and sniffed like a hound might.

"Agreeable." He nodded.

"Is this for meeting the… the masters?" Mercedes wondered.

He tilted his head.

"The others were screaming and running for the windows. Where are your screams?" He asked.

"I am afraid, but… If your masters can lift the pestilence from a city, could they not cast it upon a family? My family?" She put this to him and at the word family, fresh tears welled in her eyes.

"Ah!" He exclaimed, for the first time betraying an emotion other than disinterest. "A clever thought. My masters will be most pleased. You cloak your fear in obedience. The others conducted themselves… poorly on their first day."

"And the others, where are they now? Vittoria and Maria?" She implored him, anxious to discover what lie ahead.

"You shall see them if the masters wish it. For now, your place is here. I take my leave of you. I shall return in time." He stalked to the door but turned back. "The fall from the window would not be likely to kill you. Should you lie broken and crippled at the base of the turret… you shall wish it would have."

Then he was gone.

Mercedes ran her hands over the velvet fabric over her stomach, it provided a soft, faux-comfort. She stood to examine the room, but found little else aside from what she had already seen. Tapestries and artwork was adorned with St. Peter's cross. She stroked a tapestry hanging near the fireplace and wished she knew St. Peter's prayer.

A morbid curiosity had her staring out the window and she examined the drop. The masked man was staring up at her from the ground beneath the window.

She gasped and pressed herself against the wall betwixt the two casements. In full finery, she dashed for the bedstead like a child and wrapped the blankets tightly around herself. Prayers to the Blessed Virgin poured from her lips as she sunk back into plush pillows stuffed with feathers. Slowly, a combination of exhaustion, hunger and comfort sent her off to sleep.

* * *

"Wake!" Mercedes heard a voice call out as she was stirred from her slumber. She startled at her surroundings and the proximity of the man. He sat beside her on the bed.

Candles were lit and the sun hung low in the sky. The man held a platter of food. She did not recognize the dish.

"Eat," he ordered and thrust it into her hands.

She sat up and took a small morsel into her mouth. For a moment she chewed, but then her mouth fell open. She let it fall back onto the platter.

"Is this… chicken?" She asked as lightly as she could.

"Yes."

"Is it raw?" She added.

His pale eyes narrowed at her.

"The second one asked me the same and I dashed the plate from her hands," he warned her.

"If I am ill, I cannot serve your masters," she reasoned. "I could cook it at my fire in that pot."

"This is what your people eat," he stated and motioned to the platter. "They left it at the gate, wrapped in paper. And the potatoes."

She noticed that uncooked, diced potatoes also filled the plate.

"What do… your people eat?" She asked quietly.

"Fresh meat," he answered. "Raw meat, but not puny birds. I suppose that is why the other two only ate vegetables and fruits."

The reply sent a tremor through her. Had the poor girls starved?

"I cook for my family every night. If I could cook this, I wager you would enjoy it as much as I would." It was a small request, but she suspected one did not often make requests of their captors. _Damnation,_ she thought, _she was hungry._

He glanced at the door. When he looked back he nodded.

Mercedes hurried to heat the pot and tipped the chicken and potatoes in. As the meat sizzled, she realized she had nothing to turn them with.

"Sir, might you have something to stir this about?"

Without preamble, the man reached into the red hot pot and turned the food. She backed away from him slowly. His hand left the pot unharmed and her eyes went wide.

"How did you do that?" She breathed.

He winked at her, but offered nothing more.

When the food was cooked, she poured some onto the platter and the masked man took the pot in his hands. He walked to a corner of the room and faced the wall. She saw him lift his mask and begin devouring the chicken and potatoes in the pot.

He snarled and growled and when it was clear the pot was empty, he moaned. He secured the mask once more and turned back to Mercedes. Her mouth hung open in fright.

"You are a sorceress," he accused her vehemently. "An inferior beast has never tasted so delicious."

"I could make something for your masters, a meal far better than this one," she assured him and took a bite of the admittedly bland chicken.

"My masters… secure their own sustenance," he replied. "Perhaps, if I brought more items tomorrow, you might make enough for six?"

Mercedes nodded. "Of course, sir. There are others who serve your masters?"

"My brothers. We are honored to be taken to their bosom. Any service requested, we would provide." He leaned over her and placed a warm hand atop her head. "You have been honored, do not forget it."

"I shan't," she promised.

When she finished eating, he assisted her out of the gown and extinguished all of the candles. The only light came from the dying embers on the fire.

"When they call for you, you will go to them," he instructed before leaving her alone in a most elegant prison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¹ Hostler - A man employed to look after the horses of people staying at an inn.
> 
> Thank you for reading. Also, a dear reader asked that it be made clear the main character is not underage.


	3. The Emeritus Brothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mercedes meets her masters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains mild violence.

_Orvieto, Umbria, Italy - October, 1348_

Mercedes awoke to the wails of autumn winds against the stone walls. The room was black as pitch and for a moment she could imagine it was her own. The hearth was cold, and not an ember flickered.

The winds turned to whispers and she was certain she heard a voice in them. She stood from the bed, naked and chilled, and carefully walked toward the chair that held her gown.

In the night, she had always shared a bed with her brother and had not considered how terrifying the unforgiving darkness could be. She pulled on the kirtle and then the overdress for warmth. Her hands caressed the silk and velvet.

The whispers had developed into a melody and she went to the door to hear better. She stumbled over a pair of silk slippers and put them on. When she placed her ear to the door, the music stopped. She pulled away and it sounded again.

Her fingers enclosed around the latch and she was shocked to find it unlocked and unbarred.

The music grew louder as she stepped into the corridor. Moonlight beamed through windows in the hall and cast a silvery glow over the path ahead. She followed the dark and lilting music down the hallway and up a set of stairs.

Atop the stairs, she found an open hall. Moonlight glinted off of two large glass cases resting on dark lacquered pedestals. She approached them warily and found Maria resting inside the case closest to her. Vittoria lie in the second case. The music halted.

Mercedes rapped Maria's case wildly and called her name. She searched for a latch to open it, but found none. She desperately moved onto Vittoria's case and tried again.

"They sleep eternally, I'm afraid," a sonorous voice filled the room.

Mercedes whirled about, searching for the source. She found no one and crouched between the two pedestals. She clapped a hand over her mouth to hold in a cry.

"Our servants have preserved them well. Even in death, they retain the beauty of life.” The voice of the man shifted around the room and she could not understand how it was possible. “Vittoria served well, but was by far too weak. It was apparent to me that she was not the proper vessel.”

Still kneeling, Mercedes lifted her skirts and crept toward the staircase she had entered from.

“Maria… an abject failure. Within a sennight even my servant’s warning did not prevent her from attempting death. The wretched girl had no skill for it and languished for hours at the base of the keep. My servant was merciful, and brought relief to her suffering. He has a soft spot for humanity and their… frailty.” The unseen voice released a short chuckle.

She heard footsteps on stone and froze as the sound drew nearer.

“I am told you are clever and more tenacious than the others. While I trust my servant, I would prefer to appraise you with my own eyes.”

From the darkness of the stairwell, a pale shape materialized slowly, hovering above her. A skull appeared out of the blackness and Mercedes’ breath caught in her chest. A man dressed in dark and opulent papal attire revealed himself. He glared down at her and she stared up into his single white eye that glowed in the low light.

The jaw of the skull moved and she blinked her eyes rapidly, attempting to rid herself of the horrible phantom. It took a moment to realize he was speaking to her.

“Come to me,” he ordered sternly with a leather clad hand extended.

She recalled his servant’s instruction to go to him, but the instinct to run was too great.

Mercedes bolted to her feet and took off across the hall as quick as her legs would carry her. A staircase on the opposite side of the hall led downward and she took them two at a time without tripping over the skirts of her gown. She was the fastest of her siblings and had rarely lost a race, but she could hear footsteps echoing closely behind.

The moonlight did not illuminate the side of the keep she found herself in and the dark made it impossible to predict where she was going. After striking a wall hard, she slowed her pace.

“Where is the acquiescence you showed my servant?” She heard the voice again, all around her. “I am your master now and forevermore.”

Mercedes held in a shriek of panic and began searching for door handles. She found countless locked doors. When one finally gave way, she darted inside and secured the bolt. A thumping shook the door for a moment and then she heard the man chuckle again. Then there was silence in the hall.

She caught her breath and noticed light and warmth emanating behind her. At first she saw the crackling fire and then she saw the outline of a body on the bed. In silence, she paced to view the sleeping figure.

The man that lie before her was ancient - the oldest man she had ever seen. His scalp held few wispy translucent hairs and his skin was so loose it seemed to be slipping from the skull entirely. She stared, hypnotized in horror at the creature. His face had been painted to imitate a skull. His sunken chest rose in shallow, halting breaths. Carefully, she lifted his eyelid and found the same white eye as the other master.

“My brother cannot feel your touch, but I assure you he would welcome it, dear lady,” a rhythmic and silken voice spoke from near the hearth.

Mercedes withdrew her hand and backed away against a wardrobe. Firelight shimmered and flicked over a shadowed man in a stately chair. He leaned forward, resting his chin upon his fist and his elbow upon his crossed knee. A painted skull covered his face as well, though he appeared far younger than the man on the bed. The style of his skull was crisp and neat. Locks of black hair fell over his stark, white eye and he swept them back.

“Our virgin of mercy, do you come to pray for the first of my brethren? Not even my second brother, Our Unholiness, Emeritus II would intercede if that is your purpose,” he informed her with a grin.

Her brow furrowed, but she took his meaning and knelt at the ancient man’s bedside. The man stood and knelt on the other side of the bed. He reached for her hands over his brother’s chest and she placed hers into his leather palms. He bowed his head and recited an earnest prayer. His beautiful voice enchanted her all the while.

“Wisest of Angels, whom your fate betrays,  
And, fairest of them all, deprives of praise,

O Prince of exiles, who have suffered wrong,  
Yet, vanquished, rise from every fall more strong,

You who on Death, your old and sturdy wife,  
Engendered Hope — sweet folly of this life —

Father of all those who, robbed of pardon,  
God’s anger drove out of Eden’s garden.

Satan have pity on my long despair!”

At the name of the Great Deceiver, his spell over her was broken and she tore her hands away. An anger that was swiftly masked flashed over his features.

Mercedes crawled back.

“You call upon the Devil!” She accused him.

“I do. My most infernal and unholy father. I call for him to shower my ailing brother with his love and strength,” he affirmed shamelessly.

Mercedes hid her face in her hands.

“Your brothers are in good health, are they not?” He asked her. “Giac and darling, young Matteo?”

She peered through her fingers and watched him stoke the fire.

“How did you?... Yes…” She eventually answered.

“When your God abandoned you, we reached out to our Dark Father on your behalf. It was he who lifted your brother’s sickness when his throat was too swollen to breath. It was Satan who exhaled life back into him, and all of the people of your city. He saved your brother on a whim and for his most devoted servant's sickness, he demands unseemly recompense.” His speech cycled through anger to pain.

The man hung his head and when he gazed at his brother, she saw tears in his eyes. A foreign and unbidden urge to comfort him settled upon her, but she shook free of it.

“You lie!” She choked out and held herself as tightly as she could.

“Our servant claimed you were obedient.” He screwed her to the spot with the pointing of his finger. “It seems he lied and shall be punished for it. You must not care so marvelous much for your family if it is your will to speak so thoughtlessly to your new master.”

Her lip quivered, but she remained silent.

"We thought the health of the townsfolk would be enough to persuade you to civility. But as you mentioned to our servant earlier, of course the safety of your family would matter far more." He pressed a reverent hand to his brother's forehead. "Of course it would."

A streak of pity shot through her heart and spread rapidly. It invaded her senses and pushed her fear to the periphery of her emotions. She stood in a dusky haze and peered at him.

"You would do anything to save him. Like I would for my brother." She whispered.

"Yes." He met her eyes and his expression changed. It reminded her of a look that a handsome young groom named Luca had often given her before the pestilence took him.

He smiled with his eyes and the pity in her heart transformed into admiration. Any traces of fear had mysteriously disappeared, and his power possessed her so wholly that she did not notice.

"What fools they were to give you away so readily," he told her and stroked the back of his fingers along her cheek. He turned his hand gently to cup her face. Mercedes pressed into him, craving the comfort of his touch.

A loud creak from the other side of the door caught her attention and was enough to break whatever dominion he had over her mind. Fear flooded her senses, confusing her already unsettled thoughts. She staggered back.

"My head is… I can't…" Her eyelids fluttered. "I'm so afraid, but I can't…"

Gentle and firm hands suddenly took hold of her shoulders.

"Look at your master," the youngest Emeritus brother commanded softly.

Mercedes' looked up under long lashes and saw the man's face was less than a handspan away.

His gaze locked onto hers, but a fierce impulse had her clenching her eyes shut and turning away.

He gripped her jaw savagely and forced her to face him.

"Open your eyes, I command you!" He raged at her. His grasp tightened and she wailed in pain, but did not obey him. "I'll slit your darling brother's throat myself if you do not do as I wish."

Her eyes snapped open and she felt a strange presence invading her thoughts once more. Her admiration for him returned and a smoky cloud of slumber descended.

"Don't… don't hurt…" she mumbled uselessly.

"Hush, dear lady. You have succeeded marvelously against my powers. Rest now," he whispered.

When she could no longer support herself, he hoisted her into his arms. There was a knock at the door and she faintly heard it open. She was passed from the arms of the youngest Emeritus into the arms of the silver-masked man.

"Take her back to her quarters. Tell my brother that she is stronger in spirit than we dared to hope." She felt a hand caress her face as sleep consumed her. "She will be the vessel our Dark Lord requires."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. Also, a dear reader asked that it be made clear the main character is not underage.
> 
> The prayer to Satan in this chapter is an excerpt from Litanies of Satan by Charles Baudelaire.


	4. Dario Austerus & Marcelo Formosus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dark dream escapes Mercedes. Emeritus II formally introduces himself and presents a gift to his new visitor.

_Orvieto, Umbria, Italy - October, 1348_

Mercedes stirred the following morning and reached out for her brother. She found only a cold and empty expanse of mattress. A horrible dream faded in the back of her memory and try as she might, it escaped her.

_Was it about the masters?_ She asked herself.

Full sunlight shone through the windows and Mercedes saw a new gown had been draped over the chair by the hearth. She stepped out into the warm sunlight and dressed herself. The kirtle was heavy emerald brocade and the overdress, though black velvet as the day before, bore an intricately embroidered St. Peter’s cross.

She looked out the nearest window and felt her chest tighten in sadness as she searched the aspect of the city below for her beloved family. Time passed and she paced restlessly. There was nothing in the room to occupy her and she longed for her gittern¹. A gift from her father, she had cherished and plucked at it for many years. In the evenings after dinner, she would play tunes she wrote herself.

The door to her room creaked open and the silver-masked man entered. He held the door and immediately bent into a bow. Mercedes wondered at the sudden courtesy, but soon noticed he was not alone.

The man who followed was clearly one of the masters. He wore a doublet and tunic that closely mimicked her own. Green brocade and black velvet. They were cut longer than she was used to seeing on noble folk, but he wore it well. The belt on his hips was cinched tight and she saw he was quite thin. Black hose covered his legs and he wore black leather turnshoes on his feet.

His face was harsh and he appeared older than her father. He wore a simple black hat, which he briefly removed to reveal a bald head as he bowed slightly to her. She watched the dark spectacles that concealed his eyes and wondered how tight they must pinch to remain on his nose.

"Miss Mercedes, you are formally introduced to the master of this keep, Papa Dario Austerus Emeritus II," the masked man announced and bowed again.

She curtsied low, but she had no faith that it resembled the practiced curtsy of a lady.

"Does this room suit you, my dear?" He asked in a powerful voice. The very tone of it sent a tremor through her.

She nodded. "Yes, master."

He approached her and took a turn appraising her. She followed his movements with her eyes, but did not turn when he circled behind her.

"You've done well, servant. She is the image of loveliness," Emeritus II aimed the compliment at the masked man, but Mercedes reddened instantly. "How do you find your clothes?" He asked her.

"The finest I've beheld, sir," she answered honestly.

He stood before her and chuckled. A death's head flashed in her mind. She blinked and it was gone.

"You shall find we seek only the finest of all that life has to offer." He glanced at the masked man. "Though it has come to my attention that our cuisine may be lacking. Forgive my servant, he and his brothers are from a far off land where their meals would turn the stomachs of most civilized people. The… former guests were not kind enough to correct him, and it was an oversight on my part."

"No, master. I am at fault." The masked man sunk down on one knee.

"A loyal creature, don't you find?" Emeritus II put to her.

"Yes, sir."

"Does he frighten you?" He continued. "You must not lie to me."

Mercedes swallowed.

"He does, but not as much as you do… master..." It was the entire truth and she felt some relief in telling it.

One of his eyebrows rose high, curious at her admittance.

"Afraid of me, dear girl? Whatever for?" He came closer still and stood almost two heads above her. He bent lower so their faces nearly touched.

"Whatever bidding he may do is only at your command. And you may dress me as you wish, but I am your prisoner, sir," she explained.

He plucked the dark spectacles from his face and scrutinized her with one green eye and one blinding white eye. A minute recollection flickered when she saw it. She had seen another white eye… somewhere.

"Dear girl, you are not a captive. We have chosen to elevate you beyond your station. Here, you are mistress if you wish it." He noticed her expression of doubt. "I offer a gift of welcome and goodwill."

He extended a leather clad hand to her.

"Come with me."

Mercedes hesitantly placed her hand in his. He lead her down the corridor and up a set of stairs to an open hall. A set of plush, high backed chairs were arranged in the very center. As they drew nearer, Mercedes saw a chest nestled between them.

Emeritus II released her hand and motioned toward the chest.

"For you, my dear."

Mercedes knelt before it and reached for the clasp. She paused, apprehensive a serpent carrying poison or some such horror waited inside. Worried eyes searched her new master's face, but he betrayed nothing. She lifted the lid and found something cushioned and draped in black silk. When she swept away the cloth, a gasp of awe escaped her.

A magnificent gittern laid nestled in the chest. Beautiful rosette carvings adorned the body and shimmering stones decorated the neck. The head resembled a he-goat so closely, she thought it might bleat. The entire instrument was covered in a deep red stain. It put her chipped and shoddy gittern to shame.

"Is it to your liking?" Emeritus II asked and took a seat in the chair she faced. She did not look up to see the self-satisfied grin on his face.

A tear darted down her cheek. Her hand hovered above it, too timid to touch it.

"It is perfect. I have never wanted anything more in my life," her voice wavered when she admitted this.

He leaned forward and pressed her hand against the body. It was smooth and flawless. The strings caressed her palm. With his other hand, he removed the quill from the chest and placed it in her right hand.

"It is yours," he whispered. "Pray, play it for me."

Her hand glided delicately over the neck and she took it up against her chest. She sat back into the plush chair opposite her master and rested the quill on the top set of strings. A quick strum found it perfectly tuned.

Mercedes considered what she might play and decided upon a somber tune she had created when her brother had first taken sick with the pestilence. Emeritus II closed his eyes and seemed to savor her music. She had never produced such sound. It was improved greatly by the quality of the instrument.

When she finished, he gave a soft sigh.

"Such sweet melancholy. Such dark delight," he praised. “You are self taught?”

“I am, master. We had no excess of coin for a tutor.” She clutched the instrument close to her breast.

“Determination and patience have been your teachers, as they have often been mine. Natural talent is rare, but I see it in you.”

Her face grew warm at his words. As color flooded her cheeks his eyes regarded her with an expression not unlike hunger.

“Play on for me, if it please you. I am certain my dear brother will hear it before long and make himself known.” Emeritus II had growled the words _“my dear brother”_ and it was not lost on Mercedes.

“Do you not have two brothers, sir?” She asked before she could stop herself. A distant memory told her there were three Emeritus brothers. The deep frown that formed on his face told her it was a mistake to have asked. “I wonder because I recall the tapestry at the entrance to the keep. I thought it depicted the masters of the house, sir.”

“It is an old Emeritus heirloom – my younger brother Marcelo and I are the only masters of this fortress. You shall meet him soon enough and I daresay you shall enjoy his company,” he sighed and reclined heavily against the back of the chair.

She doubted she could enjoy these strange men, no matter how many gifts they offered her.

“What makes you so certain?”

A sneer rose at the corner of his lips. “I have yet to meet a young lady he has known who has not enjoyed his company.”

* * *

At Emeritus II's request, Mercedes played several more songs. While she began with a set of dour tunes, eventually they shifted into melodies much more sumptuous.

In the middle of a piece, she glanced at her fingers on the neck of the gittern and registered for the first time that her fingers had healed. Where she had been missing two nails, they appeared fully grown. Her song faltered to a stop and she heard gentle applause.

Her eyes flew to the source of the clapping and she saw a man leaning elegantly against Emeritus II's chair. At the sight of him her lips parted in a minute gasp. No man had ever been more handsomely designed.

The eyes he shared with his brother identified him immediately. They sat above high cheekbones and under a noble brow. His jaw was broad and lines that indicated he was no stranger to smiling creased his cheeks and eyes. His nose was long and Grecian and below it rested a wide, full mouth. Mercedes eyes landed and remained on the small cleft in his chin until he spoke.

"A wonderful performance, don't you think, Dario?" The younger Emeritus clapped a hand over his brother's shoulder.

Emeritus II glared up at his brother.

"Forgive me – don't you think, Your Divine Grace?" Marcelo Emeritus corrected himself.

Emeritus II's expression did not change until he moved his attention to Mercedes.

"Miss Mercedes, it is my duty to introduce you to my brother, Marcelo Formosus Emeritus. He is the other master of the keep. Though his authority is beneath my own," Emeritus II revealed this with a measure of satisfaction.

Marcelo crossed to her and extended a hand. When she took it, he turned her wrist and placed a warm kiss atop her knuckles.

"Dear lady, you must play for us a little each day, yes?” Marcelo requested.

She was nodding in acquiescence before she could stop herself. Her mind chastised her body's weakness at a comely face.

"I confess I have no gift for you, but perhaps I can make amends by offering a tour of the keep and grounds… within the inner walls of course, Your Divine Grace," he added the last as an aside and Emeritus II nodded.

"Acquaint her – yes, but do not tire her overmuch. I must attend to a few matters with the servants while you entertain our guest." Emeritus II stood, tipped his hat and strode from the room.

Marcelo offered his arm to Mercedes and she slowly rose to take it.

"Servant," he called to the silver-masked man. "See that her gift from my brother finds its way back to her room."

The man nodded and reached for the gittern. Instinctively, she pulled it closer, not wishing to part with it.

"My dear, it will be waiting in your room when we return," Marcelo assured her.

She passed it off with marked reluctance. Her eyes studied it a moment longer before she allowed Marcelo to lead her toward the stairs.

They went downward and toward the entrance of the keep. Mercedes watched him from the side of her eye warily. He recited historical anecdotes pertaining to the fortress and the art that adorned the walls. His speech was free and easy to listen to, but she worried that she might be carried away by it.

He mentioned a painting of a man in battle with a great war hammer that he might show her one day as he pulled open one of the great wooden front doors.

“Did you have a moment to study these beauties?” He wondered and stroked the dark-lacquered carvings on the exterior of the door. “My brother had them commissioned from a well-known sculptor. Though he asked quite fervently not to be named… I can only wonder why not.”

Mercedes knew full-well. Debaucherous images covered the doors. Lewd acts, murders and other hellscapes twisted into the wood. She stared and after a time remembered to respond.

“Your servant did not allow much time for me to look at them,” she said truthfully.

“He does as requested, do not mind him,” Marcelo advised and moved on.

The massive drawbridge was in her sight and she considered that even out of doors, she was within a prison with many walls.

Marcelo took notice and steered her swiftly around the side of the keep where a sprawling garden of herbs, bushes and flowers was situated. The flowers were a sea of deep burgundy and nearly black petals. There were only a few herbs she recognized, none of which were generally used in food. She could not understand how they all thrived in October.

Her captor knelt beside a patch of lilies and delicately ran a gloved hand over the petals.

“Have you ever seen a lily of such boundless blackness?” He marveled at it before snatching it up in his fist. “A strain of my brother’s design. He bred the very darkest shades.”

He stood and slid the stem of the flower behind her ear.

“He is a genius, my brother. He knows precisely which pairs will breed the most beauty.”

Mercedes removed the flower from behind her ear and held it between her fingers. She tried to ignore the very direct gaze of the man beside her, but it became increasingly difficult.

“They are beautiful, sir,” she conceded and dropped her eyes to the ground.

“You should have as many as you wish,” he promised and lifted her chin with a finger.

She clenched her jaw and pulled away from him. Her teeth chattered against themselves for a moment before she could stop them and she wrapped her arms around herself.

“Forgive me, I should not have presumed –” Marcelo began.

“Where are the others?” Mercedes asked in a feeble voice that contrasted with the courage she had raised to ask the question.

Any remaining mirth drained from his features.

“What do you want of me? Why am I here? If I will not survive to two-month’s end, what is the purpose of gowns and gifts and flowers? Why dress a sow to be slaughtered?” Tears welled in her eyes and she shuffled down a row of lilies to rest against the wall. She pressed her forehead into the stone hard, praying that she could sink away into it.

“You believe we would use you for some gruesome sacrifice, dear lady? The men who granted respite to an entire city?” He sounded incredulous and she heard him approach. From the corner of her eye, she saw him lean back at the wall with one knee bent, the foot resting on the stones.

“Your people – your family are safe. It will not seem like it now, but when they offered you to us, like the sow you claim to be, they gave you an opportunity for a life without limitations. Vittoria’s father is a bricklayer of middling skill, what could he have provided her? If not a slave in his household, she would have been married to a man of no consequence who would waste her potential on an endless procession of children. A man who would see only a subservient tool and not a woman."

She saw him turn towards her and closed her eyes.

"Your father, for all his affections, would offer you the same fate. A life of constant service beneath a man who views you as lesser. We – I see an equal in you. Your spirit is stronger than that of an hostler's daughter and it should be given the opportunity to flourish." His words were inspiring, but also misleading.

"Flourish behind your walls? Away from my family?” She cried.

“Your people were prepared to sacrifice you despite knowing nothing of our intentions. Would you want to go back to them? Could you see them each day and forgive them?” He asked quietly, knowing well the answer in her heart.

“The Lord will forgive them and so shall I… one day,” she whispered and rubbed away tears that had collected at her chin.

“You would forgive them because they have convinced you that you should. The very same elders who would wound you, also tell you not to look back in anger. How simple it must be for them to return to their lives while you can never return to yours. You have a right to your sadness and fury. They should not be secreted away under the guise of piety or politeness.” Very carefully, he moved closer to her along the wall.

“Allow your tears to fall, and if the anger and fear inside you must break out - then scream, little one. As loud as you can. Suppression can only cause illness and rancor,” he assured her.

Mercedes allowed a large sob to escape and it was quickly followed by another.

Then she heard Marcelo breathe on the side of her face.

“Scream,” he whispered.

And she did. Louder than she had ever done before. Shrill and horrible, it faltered into a low wail before it quieted. After a moment of silence, another scream tore through her and she beat the wall with her fist before turning on her captor. She had no prodigious strength, but struck him in the chest with all of her might. Her curled fist pounded into him and met solid resistance. The thudding sounds of her strikes echoed off the stone wall like some grotesque heartbeat.

He allowed her to continue until all of the strength went out of her. He grasped her as she collapsed, holding her steady as she shook and lashed out again. His grip tightened and he embraced her. Small palms attempted to swat him as he started to stroke her back.

“Just tell me where they are?” She whimpered, her words nasal and stilted.

“Vittoria, she is away from this place, married to a husband of great consequence. And Maria, the very same fate. They are showered with affection and praise, experiencing pleasures you’ve never dreamt of. They are liberated from the bonds that held them before. They are free,” he asserted this and she could hear happiness in his voice.

Mercedes’ chin rested on his shoulder and she considered the likelihood of what he told her.

“If you’re to be believed… that is my fate?” She sighed hopelessly.

A chuckle rumbled through his chest and against hers. He leaned back to peer at her and was shaking his head.

“You are meant for a much greater fate than the others. My brother and I have been searching tirelessly for such a creature, and now that we have found her – found you, we shall ensure your safety and felicity, so long as it does not infringe upon our own,” he explained.

“And at two-month end?”

“We will not require another daughter of Orvieto.” His hands moved to cup her face and he rested his forehead on hers. “Our source of joy has come home to us.” His words were reverent in a way she had never heard from a man.

She shivered when he moved his eyes to gaze into hers. It mirrored the hungry longing she had seen in his brother’s eyes earlier that morning.

“...Source of joy?” She questioned as her mind rifled through endless interpretations for such a phrase.

“As we shall be yours, in time,” he said and drew back. “I’ve been wicked, Our Divine Grace instructed me not to over-tire you, but you can hardly stand. You must rest for an hour or two.”

“Yes, rest.” She nodded, leaping at the chance to be alone again.

Marcelo took her arm and led her back into the keep. Upon passing the tapestry at the entrance, she paused.

“Sir, what precisely is your elder brother the Divine Grace of?”

“Our Ministry and church, of course,” he replied with a light laugh. As if she should have been well aware.

“You are men of the cloth?” She pressed, it was the first good omen she had received.

His eyes narrowed down at her covertly and his tongue darted over his full lips. “Oh yes, and we serve Our Lord most deliciously.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Halloween short story. Thank you for reading. Also, a dear reader asked that it be made clear the main character is not underage.
> 
> ¹ Gittern: A small, quill-plucked, gut-strung musical instrument, most commonly with three to four strings in doubles courses; it is a flat-backed predecessor of the guitar, and it originated around the 13th century, coming to Europe via Moorish Spain.


	5. Understanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another prisoner is being kept in the keep. Emeritus II offers Mercedes lessons and the silver-masked servant offers... something else.

_ Orvieto, Umbria, Italy - October, 1348 _

Mercedes could not rest when she returned to her room. She sat in a chair by the hearth with her new gittern in hand and stared at her bouncing knees. It seemed obvious to her that the Emeritus brothers wanted to appear magnanimous, and curing a city of the pestilence surely bolstered the claim. Still her instincts told her that for all their apparent good deeds, they were the first strokes that lead to some sinister design.

In the middle of her thoughts, she heard footsteps in the corridor. She strummed a few notes in an attempt to look occupied, but no one entered her room.

After setting her instrument down, Mercedes crept to the door and cracked it open. A sigh of relief escaped her at the realization that the door had not been locked. She watched the silver-masked man from behind as he turned down another hallway. With a deep breath she stepped out of her slippers and followed him. At the junction of the corridor, she pulled close to the wall and glanced carefully down the hallway. The silver-masked man rifled through a ring of keys he removed from his tunic. He found the correct one, but drew his dagger from his belt before using it. When he opened the door, he was slow and careful. He motioned forward with the blade.

“Bring it,” he ordered.

Mercedes saw only shadows and glimpses of a figure through the crack in the door jamb. A sallow hand extended a pale to the man. She was fairly certain of its contents. The masked man set the pale down in the corridor and thrusted the dagger forward.

“Move back.”

The figure passed the sliver of the room she could see and the man disappeared inside.

Her stomach knotted in apprehension, but she dashed to the door and pressed her ear to the wood, hoping to hear Vittoria or Maria inside. She heard nothing but shuffling for some time, and then the sloshing of water. A hiss of pain cut through the air and Mercedes heard what sounded like a short struggle.

“You’ll have another if you don’t control yourself,” the masked man warned.

Mercedes pressed her hand to the wood, wishing she could help the person inside. The sound of footsteps coming from her right had her dashing back to her room at a full sprint. Inside, she gently secured the latch and ran to the chair by the hearth. She grabbed the gittern and started into a song of complete nonsense. The footsteps drew nearer and the door opened after a knock of warning.

Emeritus II entered her room alone and tipped his head to acknowledge her. Mercedes rested the instrument in her lap and nodded back.

"Dear Mercedes, I hope I am not interrupting your leisure," he began and loomed near the looking glass.

"No, Your Divine Grace. Might I… assist you?" She asked, uncertain of how to interact with him. How much deference did a man in his position expect?

"No, child." He waved a hand. "I wanted to assure you that you will not be neglected under our care. Also, this night we shall dine together, and I assure you that it will be well made."

After a beat of silence Mercedes spoke.

"Thank you, master. I do not doubt you."

He approached with his hands clutched behind his back. 

"You are enjoying your gift, dear lady?" He wondered, gesturing to the gittern.

"I adore it, master," she admitted.

"When I tell you that we endeavor to please you, I am in earnest. My brother spins pretty lies, but it has never been my preferred art. If you require – or desire anything, I will make all attempts to provide it for you," Emeritus II told her.

She peered up at him with pleading eyes.

"I desire to go home to my father, sir," she begged and hoped that her pitiful plea would move him.

His posture changed, shifting upright and rigid. He took her chin gently but firmly and forced her to look up at him.

"You are home and I am the only Papa you know," he made the statement as a matter of fact.

When she only stared with wide eyes, his fingers clutched harder.

"Tell me," he urged. His tone was soft, but his eyes were insistent and fierce.

"I am home… Papa," she surrendered and he released her. She massaged her jaw with her fingers and averted her eyes.

"Obedient girl," he praised and stroked her cheek. "Beautiful girl. Rise." He beckoned her with a finger and she stood, placing the gittern down on the seat. 

She swallowed hard when he placed a hand on her upper arm to direct her before the looking glass. Emeritus II produced a folded swath of claret velvet and uncovered within a silver cross of St. Peter. He towered behind her and gathered her hair with one hand. As his fingers dragged across her shoulders a strange shivering cold surged from the center of her chest and worked down her arms. When all of her hair was pulled back, he took up the cross and let the velvet fall to the floor. He lowered it before her on its silver chain and fastened it at the nape of her neck.

“This symbol of Our Lord shall grant you strength and self-control. Though I am the master of this keep, you are the mistress of yourself. Our Lord is your patron forevermore and he shall stand beside you in all things, yet never above you,” he recited to her. She was not sure if he was giving her a gift or performing some strange ritual. He rested a reverent hand on the cross that laid upon her breast. “Tell me, how was your astounding beauty celebrated in Orvieto?”

Mercedes’ face and neck grew red in a flash and she looked away from the mirror. A firm and gentle hand upon her cheek turned her head back to the looking glass.

“We admire the very same reflection, do we not? Do you not see a shell of cream and ivory? Eyes of sun-struck amber? Hair of silken jet strands? A form of sculpted Roman antiquity?” His words of regard overwhelmed her and she shook her head.

“I do not see it, master,” she admitted in a voice barely above a whisper.

“Those in the city below have blinded you, but I will clear your eyes. Here you should not fear punishment, but strive for pleasure of reward. Soon you shall come to see yourself as I see you – a paragon of mind and body to be revered.” He took her hand lightly and pressed a kiss to the inside of her wrist. “To be worshipped.” He released her hand, but his eyes continued to move over her reflection without a hint of shame.

“Your brother told me that Vittoria and Maria are away and married, but that would not be my fate.” She turned to face him directly. “He claimed that I would be your ‘Source of Joy’. Tell me… Papa, from your words of affection, do you intend that I should be your bride? Or your brother’s?”

He grinned. “Marriage is a shackle that obscures the self. I would not deign to force it upon you or any person, least of all myself.”

Mercedes felt a wave of relief.

“And your religious sect,” she paused and fingered the cross. “It exalts St. Peter?”

“No, dear. We exalt a deity of far higher power. A lord of compassion and understanding,” Emeritus II explained vaguely.

Mercedes nodded and bit her lip, praying his lord of understanding would shed light on her questions which he left half-answered. Emeritus II brought his thumb to her lips and pulled the flesh between her teeth free. The lambskin leather of his glove caressed slowly over her plump bottom lip.  
  
“I see a blushing rose before me in bloom. Every predilection within urges me to pluck it, yet I know that you shall bloom evermore full and then be prepared for what lies ahead.” With a great sigh, he withdrew his hand.

“I have caught someone gazing at me with the same hungry expression you regard me with now. He too spoke of plucking flowers,” she told him boldly.

He grinned again and she wondered if he had ever truly smiled.

“Did his interest excite you, dearest?” He wondered.

Mercedes inhaled deeply before answering. “I reviled it, and so I might tell you what I told him.”

“What was that?” Emeritus II had narrowed his eyes at her and took a step closer.

“That he could pluck himself,” she hissed up at him.

Whatever reaction she had expected could not prepare her for the satisfied groan that escaped his parted lips. It was obscene and a death's head flickered in her mind in the same manner it had that morning.

"There is the spirit that so pleased my brother. You're a wit as well, that much is certain and quite refreshing. I admit I had fears that you would be as dull as the others. You prove those doubts false and for that I am grateful," he said this all with a sense of relief.

"I am no scholar, master," she countered.

"Ah, you might be in time. If you wish, here you shall learn to read and write. You clearly have the capacity for it. You might study philosophies or histories as well," Emeritus II assured her. His expression was honest and his desirous look had abated.

Mercedes could not believe what she heard.

"Most highborn ladies in Orvieto are not capable of more than their signature. You would waste such knowledge on me, Papa?" She inquired in disbelief.

He gave her a look of concern, almost pity.

“It is no waste to thirst for knowledge – no matter your anatomy or position. You and your people have suffered at the hands of a false church that casts you underfoot and endeavors to keep you there. Our Lord shall lift you out of ignorance and servitude. A woman’s place is beside a man, not beneath him. Intelligence was first known to womankind, who shared it with man. Men were weak and fearful of their partners who held dominion over all life. They stole away freedoms and wove lies to make you believe yours was the weaker sex.” Mercedes was sure that no other man had ever voiced such sentiments aloud.

His hand moved to hover over her stomach.

"You can create new life within you, an immense power no man may possess."

Mercedes laced her fingers together against her stomach in an attempt to shield it from him.

"I shall think on your words, Papa. Perhaps my days would seem fuller with lessons. I confess I have been envious of scribes who visited my place of work and flaunted their knowledge of the written word. It has always been beyond my grasp," she admitted bashfully and glanced down at her stocking covered feet.

"You shall learn to read, practice your instrument at your leisure, bath each day in perfumed and oiled waters, then sit down to a fine meal each night. Soon this keep will be your sanctuary as it has been ours. Today you will receive your first lesson," he announced and crossed the room to a small writing desk.

Emeritus II beckoned her with a curling finger and she stepped slowly toward him. He pressed her in front of him so she was forced between him and the desk. His form bent close over her as he flicked open an ink pot and took up a quill. She felt his breath hot on the side of her face when he slipped the quill betwixt her fingers. He maneuvered her grip into the correct position and securely placed his hand over hers. He brought the quill to the pot and dipped it lightly inside.

"It takes a delicate and stable hand to write with this utensil. First you must take up the ink, but not too much, as it will spill out and ruin your work," he explained and demonstrated that the quill held the correct amount of ink.

"Then you begin in firm strokes." He applied pressure to her hand and drew the quill across the paper. With every stroke her excitement grew. He meant what he said, she would learn to write. When he lifted her hand from the page she marveled at the word they had written together. It was beautiful, a work of art.

She turned her face toward his and their noses nearly touched. 

"Pray, tell me what we've written, master? It's perfection,' she exclaimed.

"That, my dear–" his eyes cast down upon the word, "– Is your name. Written more stately than any queen."

Mercedes blinked and traced around the ink with the pad of her finger. A strange flux of joy was followed immediately by guilt. Could she allow herself to be so easily enticed and placated? Her mind wandered to the fear and uncertainty her family must have felt for her.

"Papa, might I make a proposal?" She asked suddenly.

His face remained extremely close to hers when he answered.

"I will hear it."

"If I am very attentive and amenable to you… perhaps in time you might allow me to write a note, even a few words, to let my family know that I am being cared for by the most magnanimous of men?" She chose her words with great care and hoped her flattery would have some effect.

Again he grinned but did not smile.

"When you are able of your own accord, you may write such a letter and my servant shall deliver it," he confirmed. His warm hand smoothed over her upper arm. "In reciprocity I ask only a trifle."

Mercedes swallowed, his touch and proximity was beginning to make her fidget. And of course he would require something. She nodded for him to continue.

"The briefest caress of your comely lips."

The request was barely out before she shocked him by immediately pressing a kiss to his jaw. His eyes widened, but otherwise he did not betray himself. He had expected her to refuse, but the smart creature had given it before he could make any mention of where he would like it. He chuckled darkly.

"We have an understanding. If you are on your very best behaviour, you may write your letter." He nodded and stood straight once more. "My servant will arrive soon to draw your bath. He worried that you smelled of your father's stable, but I sense only the most intoxicating perfumes from you." 

He leaned forward and took in the scent of her hair.

"Your willingness to grant me your kiss has pleased me immeasurably. As Papa and master of this keep, I will expect the same gesture each day and the same manner will do," he instructed.

With a bow, he retreated from the room.

_Kiss him each day!_ She agonized._ Like a daughter might kiss her father?_ The only reason she had been so ready to give the kiss was because she feared he would ask for it upon his lips if she did not act quickly.

She had very little time to consider her accord with Emeritus II when his silver-masked servant entered her room. He carried with him a massive cask of steaming water and poured it into the basin near the hearth without a word to her. From a purse on his belt, he poured dried petals and herbs and from another he produced perfumes and oils. He drew up the tent and allowed the elements to commingle before it was ready.

"I will prepare you for your bath, if it please you," he stated. Mercedes nodded and he began doing so directly. Mercedes assisted him as much as she could.

"What is your name?" She inquired as he rolled her hose down her legs. 

He glanced up at her shrewdly.

"I have no Italian name, the Emeritus brothers did not give me one," he replied curtly.

"Your birth name then?"

His head shook and he stood and unplaited her hair.

"You could not pronounce it and so it would be no use to tell you," he said with a sigh.

"You think me too stupid?" She asked.

The silver-masked man snapped his head toward her.

"No, my lady. The Emeritus brothers themselves cannot pronounce it. My intention was not to offend," he assured her and she believed him. He pulled the tent on the basin back and dipped his fingers into the water.

"Do your brothers have names? Where are they?" Mercedes continued to question.

"They do not, and they see to other tasks as they have no aptitude for the Italian language. I alone speak your tongue and have a personable manner," answered and motioned for her to enter the bath.

Mercedes climbed in and found that the water was far less scalding than the previous day. She sank down and relaxed the best she could.

"You're different, special," she whispered with closed eyes.

“That is a generous sentiment, my lady,” he said in response and took up a place behind her head. He gathered her hair and began washing it. His touch was more considerate than the day before.

“I shall think of you as _ Altro _ to set you apart,” she told him. His fingers moved against her scalp and her eyes rolled in her head.

“If you must. It is… fitting,” he agreed. “I would ask your forgiveness for my curt manner this past day. My masters suffered much disappointment with the others. Until they were certain of you, I prepared myself for only more displeasure.”

Mercedes gathered her knees to her chest and rested her chin upon them.

“How did Vittoria and Maria disappoint them?” She wondered.

Altro, as she had decided to call him, took up a sponge and scrubbed it over her shoulders.

“Vittoria was senseless and feeble in mind and body. It was apparent soon after her arrival that she was not what Our Lord required, though she was well behaved. Maria was an exceedingly stupid child who rarely stemmed her bleating. I advised the masters that she was not worth their acquaintance,” he told her.

“They sent her off to be married without meeting her?” Mercedes exclaimed, looking back at Altro.

His eyes, the only visible feature of his face, shifted side to side quickly in thought.

“Yes… married. To a gracious husband,” he said with finality after a pause. He gripped her shoulders firmly and began massaging them. Her thoughts of Vittoria and Maria evaporated and she slumped forward on her knees. “The masters are so pleased with you that they have directed me to provide you with every comfort. You are quite fortunate.”

Mercedes was too relaxed to argue with him, which she supposed made him correct in some small way. She began to doze when a remembrance forced its way into her mind.

“Are the masters, your brothers and you the only other people in the fortress?” She asked suddenly.

“Yes,” he lied without hesitation.

Mercedes nodded and decided not to press him on the matter. There would be time for that in the coming days and weeks.

“Will you be bringing food for me to cook for your brothers tonight?”

“Papa has corrected my errors and you will dine with him and Master Marcelo tonight,” he replied.

“You will cook for yourself?” She continued.

“Papa has said that we should be glad of what we have received in the past.” When he said this, it was the first time he had sounded anything less than reverent.

Mercedes placed a hand over his and turned to him.

“Did he forbid me to cook for you, even if it please me?” Her eyebrow cocked high and she gave him a most mischievous look. 

Altro looked back at the door.

“I may have forgotten to relay that portion of our conversation to him, my lady.” The way his left eye opened wider, she guessed he was raising an eyebrow as well.

“Bring what you like tonight and I shall make something for you,” Mercedes assured him.

His eyes were trained on her hand.

“Why would you be so generous to a stranger?” He wondered and it was clear that he had been wanting to ask for some time.

She removed her hand and twisted her fingers together.

“I would hope that some kind lady might offer a full meal to my brothers and sister if they were in need,” she answered honestly. “And I don’t care to be lonely in this strange place.”

Altro pet her hair to comfort her and she realized that her face had grown hot in a way that tears often followed.

“You will be treated better than any queen in human history within these walls. It is my duty to ensure it.” His hands commenced the massage Mercedes had cut short with her questions. “You need only make a request of me, and I will see it done. No matter how small...” All at once, the cool metal of his mask was pressing against her ear. “...Or obscene.”

Mercedes stiffened.

“What – what do you mean by _ obscene_, Altro?” She breathed.

“Perhaps you had a rival in the city or your father had a debt you would rather not be collected upon. These complications might be gotten rid of,” he told her simply.

“You would hurt people if I asked you to? I would never request that of you!” She cried and water splashed out from the basin when she moved to face him.

“Their lives would be gone before they felt pain, and no soul on earth would consider their demise the consequence of foul play,” he stated this as if murder were a commonplace subject.

Mercedes gripped the sides of the basin and her eyes grew wide in horror.

“I have upset you, that was not my intention. If it is repugnant to you, I will never mention it hereafter. It was only an instance of my devotion.” He bowed his head several times in supplication. Mercedes calmed but kept a close eye on him. “Perhaps you might make more enjoyable requests? They are among Master Marcelo’s more frequent desires.”

"Such as?"

"Providing release. You might ask me to caress your tender altar, and I would oblige you." He regarded this deviant subject in the same cool manner he had mentioned murder.

Mercedes crossed her legs tightly and violently shook her head. Her cheeks reddened.

"I will never ask that of you and if Master Marcelo has, he should be ashamed of such perversions!" She lamented quite loudly. The thought that a master would force his servant to perform such a grotesque act rattled her to her core.

"To fulfill my masters' wishes is my greatest joy, my lady. Do not pity me for I am a servant of my own accord. I might return home at any time," he revealed. "I have many freedoms here that I would not in the place of my origin. One such freedom is offering a beautiful woman the succor of pleasure at my hands."

If it were possible, Mercedes skin turned a deeper shade of red. He _ wanted _ to touch her… there?

“I would like to dress now,” she told him bashfully, “And I beg you, no more talk of _ that _.”

When she rose, he carefully rinsed her, an improvement from the dousing of the previous day. When he finished patting her dry, she snatched the fresh chemise up and changed without his assistance.

“I will return to escort you to dinner,” he informed her as he wove plaits of her hair together. “I trust you can occupy yourself until then?”

She nodded. Some strange notion had told her that he might be her ally, but after the latter half of their conversation, she highly doubted it. She did hold onto a small ray of hope. That night she planned to discover the identity of the prisoner Altro had visited.


	6. The Priest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner, music and dancing. Followed by horrible truths.

_ Orvieto, Umbria, Italy - October, 1348 _

Altro escorted her to the dining hall in silence. Mercedes contemplated how much the meal could improve when the prior night, the servant had not realized chicken should be cooked.

When they turned into the hall, her lips parted pleasantly at the sight of a wall of stained glass windows. She hurried slightly ahead of Altro and studied the closest to her. It depicted Lucifer's descent from heaven. Even in glass, the fallen angel was rendered incomparably beautiful. God cast a foreboding finger at him from above and appeared almost villainous. The next window bore an image of a naked woman embracing a man with the head of a he-goat. She studied their grasp on each other and noticed the figures were anatomically correct.

Mercedes stumbled back with a shocked hand over her mouth and felt a pair of hands grip her shoulders from behind.

"I had forgotten to mention these works this morning, but I suppose they are a welcome surprise to you," Marcelo told her in a tone of awe. "Such exquisite artistry, yes?"

Her eyes fixed on those of the he-goat and she nodded absently.

"Peculiar subjects," she muttered.

"In time, they shall lose their novelty and provide you comfort. We all fall, but we must lift ourselves up. Though we must also be willing to be embraced by others in times of need," he told her sagely. "Please come sit and prepare to sup, my brother will be along shortly."

Marcelo led her to the lengthy dining table in the center of the room. It was a sleek and dark wood. Fine carvings twined around its legs and along the table's edge. Marcelo drew out a high-backed chair for her that was as finely carved as the table. She perched upon the seat and he pushed it in.

He stalked around the table, which took no small amount of time due to the length of it. He sat opposite from her and reached for a glass of red wine that had already been poured. Mercedes saw that there was one before her also. She had only drank wine during Communion and had never particularly enjoyed it. Still, she followed his lead and lifted the glass from the table. He raised his and she followed suit.

"We shall save a proper toast for my brother's arrival, but he would not deny us a glass beforehand." He took a long sip and she saw his shoulders relax.

She mirrored him and let some of the wine trickle passed her lips. It was rich, dark and delicious, nothing like the wine she had tasted at Communion. The taste remained and tingled on her tongue.

"Mmmm, ambrosial," Marcelo sighed. "What do you think?"

"Very nice, Master Marcelo." She nodded.

He surveyed her features and a smirk played over his lips.

"I might suppose you've only sampled Communion wine. From now on, I will ensure that you are only offered the most delectable wines, among other things," he told her. "Our church does not forbid the finer pleasures… or any pleasures for that matter."

A separate set of doors that Mercedes had not noticed opened wide and Emeritus II swept in wearing a long set of papal robes. Marcelo stood at once and bowed his head. Mercedes struggled up to do the same. She watched Marcelo and followed his movements to appear deferential.

Emeritus II surveyed them both and waited for Altro to pull his chair out. His arms stretched out wide by his sides and he motioned for them to be seated.

A pair of silver-masked men who must have been Altro's brothers entered with steaming trays of food and tureens brimming with thick and aromatic sauces. Platters of fruits and vegetables were placed before them and several decanters of red wine were arranged within reach.

When a silver-masked man appeared beside her with a plate of meat she realized that she had no idea if it were Altro or one of his brothers. He rested a thick and savory steak upon her plate.

"I cooked it myself," Altro's voice said low in her ear.

She failed to hold in a smile and Marcelo saw it immediately.

"Divine Grace, I believe our lady is smiling. What a lovely sight it is," he called attention to it.

Emeritus II nodded in agreement.

"Thank you, Marcelo. I would raise a glass to you, Mercedes. To your arrival and loveliness. May Our Lord accept you and love you deeply," he recited.

They all drank together and then their plates were filled with food. Mercedes took a bite of the expertly cooked meat and closed her eyes. It was the most amazing food she had ever tasted. She took up a few grapes and popped them in her mouth. They were juicy, sweet and flavorful. She tried a few other dishes and found them as delicious as the first.

"Altro, you're wonderful!" She exclaimed.

The Emeritus brothers shared a questioning glance.

Altro bowed to her. "Thank you, my lady," he said in a clipped tone.

"You must be feeling some measure of comfort here if you've begun naming the servants," Emeritus II chuckled.

Altro fidgeted strangely and inclined his head toward Papa Emeritus II. Mercedes noticed absently that the meat on the brother's plates was different from her own.

"In Orvieto, even the servants have names, Your Divine Grace," she said politely.

"Please, name them all if you like, dear lady," he granted permission. "Best of luck keeping them separate."

She giggled at his quip. Then giggled at her own giggle. Then she was quiet. Her brows furrowed, it wasn't that amusing. Then she couldn't recall why she had laughed at all. Her eyes flicked toward her wine glass.  _ A few sips couldn't… could they? _

Marcelo watched her with a sly smile.

"An improvement on your dinner last night, I'd wager?" He asked her.

"Oh yes, it was inedible, but Altro is quick to learn I see," she replied more honestly than she would have liked.

Marcelo laughed and Emeritus II grinned.

"I corrected him myself," Emeritus II said. "We enjoy cooking for ourselves, which is why our servants have never learned."

"That's quite strange, Your Divine Grace. I've never heard of the master of a house cooking for himself," she admitted. The taste of wine was on her lips and she looked down to see the glass in her hand. Her jaw worked in bewilderment. "I don't –"

"You began your first lesson in writing, I hear," Marcelo interrupted. "That is quite exciting."

A gracious smile spread over her features.

"Oh yes, I am certain no captive has ever been offered such an opportunity," Mercedes replied.

The brothers shared another glance.

"You are at home here, not a captive, my lady," Emeritus II reminded her in a stern manner.

"Of course, Your Divine Grace of…" she trailed off, not knowing the name of their church.

Marcelo had beckoned a servant and whispered to him under his breath. The servant dashed from the room. While Emeritus II's attention was piqued, she slipped a silver soup spoon into the pocket of her kirtle.

"There are many texts in our library that you might pour over once you begin to grasp Latin," Marcelo informed her with a pleasant smile.

_ Lord above, he is handsome,  _ she thought abruptly. She looked down at her plate and shook the thought from her head.

"She is bright, I have no doubt she will learn swiftly," Emeritus II praised.

It was foreign to be praised so. Her father certainly adored her, but he was not a man of many words or compliments. He had told her once that she was a "good young woman" and she would never forget it. To be described as "bright" sent a warm wave of joy juxtaposed with embarrassment through her. They had told her so many kind words since her arrival and provided endless fineries.

An image of Marcelo placing a flower behind ear played in her mind. He had been so warm when he clutched her to him. She swept her palms over her face and felt heat in her cheeks.

“Perhaps we might have our own lessons, dear lady? That is if our Papa is willing to part with you for any amount of time.” His eyebrow raised in question at his brother.

"And what lessons would you provide, Marcelo?" Emeritus II asked with barely veiled skepticism. "Is preening an artform now?" He added under his breath.

"Singing and elocution, perhaps? Or painting? Proper technique for the gittern? Dancing?" Marcelo supplied quickly.

Emeritus II rolled his eyes.

"Yes, dear brother, you may instruct her in any number of your pretty skills. However, your lessons may never supersede mine," Emeritus II commanded and Marcelo nodded in agreement.

A silver-masked servant darted back into the room holding Mercedes' gittern and quill. He approached her with them and another servant removed her plate while yet another servant pulled out her chair.

"I was hoping you would play for us at the table. Your playing is unsullied by conventional form or mediocrity. It is so-" Marcelo began.

"Pure," Emeritus II finished.

Mercedes accepted the instrument.

"At the table, is that not… improper?" Mercedes wondered softly. She did want to play. She desperately wanted to impress the handsome man opposite her.

A look was shared between the brothers and Emeritus II gave a small nod.

"You are correct, of course. It is not a worthy stage for you." Marcelo smiled deviously.

In a fluid motion filled with cacophony and madness, Marcelo flew to his feet and swept all that he could reach from the table to the floor. Dishes of food exploded over the carpet and wall behind him. Candlesticks guttered to the ground. Glasses shattered into shards. He climbed onto the table and continued clearing a path until nothing remained between him and Mercedes.

Hair fell over his disparate eyes and Mercedes stared up at him in a daze. She was hardly certain if she believed what she saw. He extended a hand to her.

"Your stage, my lady," he laughed and presented the cleared portion of the table with a flourish.

A nervous chuckle escaped her and she shook her head.

"Would it please you to play for me?" He asked so that only she might hear.

She nodded.

"Then fulfill your desire and come up with me. We deny you no pleasure here," he urged and proffered his hand again.

She took it hesitantly and laboured awkwardly with gittern in hand to join him. When she stood up, she cast an eye over Emeritus II and the servants, who merely waited. To them this absurdity must have been commonplace. Marcelo sat expectantly on his knees beside her. He looked up to her and offered a smile.

Mercedes began to play a slow melody. Something she believed would be rather elegant. A tune for dinner at a fine home. Her fingers seemed to move unfettered and more fluidly than the morning. Before long they were fretting and plucking faster and Marcelo clapped a rhythm. His voice poured out in a wordless song. It was familiar and enticing, but a veil was drawn over her memory of the last time she had heard it.

He rose up from his knees and they both began to turn and stomp a beat into the wood. An instinctive power flowed through Mercedes and she whirled around and around with Marcelo, playing all the while. Heat and joy welled in her chest and suddenly she was laughing.

Marcelo reached for her hands and in one swift turn, the instrument was taken and handed off to a servant. As he rounded again, he took her hand and bowed. He shifted forward into a deeper bow and then brought his feet together. She knew no proper dances and sensing this, he moved rhythmically with the music that had started up once more.

Emeritus II was playing and Mercedes melted into Marcelo's arms at his virtuosity. They twirled and stamped, and he lifted her high in the air by the waist. She felt lighter than air itself in his grasp. He brought her down against him, her chest sliding slowly along his. When he breathed, she felt the movement and the heat of him. Her hands slipped between them, intending to push away, but her fists curled into the fabric of his soft, ebony tunic.

"You are warm, Master Marcelo," she whispered.

"My Lord's fire fills my veins, dearest. When you accept him, you shall never feel the cold of loneliness again.” Sweltering hands moved across her back and her head felt light. She tried to screw her attention to the fastening on his tunic, but her mind flitted uncontrollably.

“Who is your Lord?” She wondered. They had spoken of him many times and she wore his sigil, but his name escaped her.

“He has endless names,” Marcelo answered, “And he holds endless forms.”

She released his tunic and stepped back. Her fingers closed around the bauble Emeritus II had placed about her neck.

“Whose symbol sits at my bosom if it is not St. Peter?” She looked from Marcelo to Emeritus II, whose music slowed.

“Do you know the name Asmodeus?” Emeritus II inquired.

Mercedes shook her head. “I do not, Your Divine Grace.”

"Then until he is prepared to reveal himself to you, that is how you may think of him," Emeritus II explained.

"And what of my God?" She had asked politely, but the music stopped and Marcelo's face fell. "Might I worship Him as well? And his Holy Son? And the Holy Virgin Mother?"

Emeritus II set the gittern on the table and motioned toward a servant. They pulled his chair back and he stood. He stalked along the table until he reached his brother and Mercedes. He beckoned her with a finger and she knelt down to him.

"I understand your reservations and am willing to make concessions due to your upbringing… however, I tell you now and only once… I do not allow the worship of false and self-important gods in my home and house of worship. Your god, his son and his child mistress did not follow you through the gates to this fortress and they are not to be mentioned hereafter." Emeritus II searched her eyes for compliance, but found confusion combined with fear.

He took the inverted cross in his palm and looked sharply into her eyes. She felt the stare of his silvery eye pierce her heart with terror.

"Asmodeus is your Lord," he growled.

She placed a shaking hand over his.

"Asmodeus is my Lord," she repeated, though her voice wavered.

"I am your Papa," he continued.

"You are my Papa," she recited and the terror seemed to ebb.

"Perfection," he sighed and placed a tender kiss upon her forehead. "Now I shall have my nightly osculation and Marcelo shall see you back to your room."

Her brows furrowed at the request.

"I shall have my kiss, dearest Mercedes," Emeritus II explained.

She leaned forward to press her lips to his jawline when his hand closed around the nape of her neck, holding her cheek tightly to his.

"Beware my brother and his lies," he rasped almost without sound.

She laid her intended kiss and moved back.

"Thank you, Papa. Good night to you, Papa," she told him and rejoined Marcelo, who helped her down from the table top.

"Your Divine Grace, I shall return to our wing in time and bid you a proper good night then," Marcelo told his brother and led Mercedes from the dining hall.

The last movement Mercedes saw in the room were the servants descending on the great mess that Marcelo had made. She pitied them and recalled having cleaned many a mess of highborn folk. Though they did not have to shovel horse droppings, which made their plight ever so less pitiful. Emeritus II oversaw their efforts with an imperious gaze.

"Darling girl, you're trembling," Marcelo noted and drew an arm over her shoulders.

"I fear Papa's displeasure," she admitted with a glance back.

Marcelo let out a bark of a laugh.

"He would fix you with his eye and tell you directly if you had displeased him," Marcelo assured her. He tapped a finger under his own pale eye at the insistence.

"What would he do if he finds fault with me?" She did not mean to be so forward with her questions, but some barrier between her mind and mouth had thinned.  _ The wine… _ she thought again.

"It would depend on the offense. Most often, he would prescribe a time of quiet contemplation."

"He wouldn't ask a servant to go into the city… to…" she hesitated and Marcelo stopped.

"Your family is safe, we would not resort to such wickedness." The handsome man stroked her cheek.

"I don't know what you're capable of. How can I know what powers are at your disposal when you have eradicated the pestilence from an entire city? If I did something horrible, would you strike me with sickness?" She begged to know. "You must control some supernatural force."

"You have my word that you shall not be harmed," Marcelo attempted to calm her.

"Altro told me he would commit murder if I asked. He offered to do unseemly things," she revealed.

Marcelo rolled his eyes. "Though his Italian is very good, his humor is very poor. I am certain he was trying to make merry and failed." He continued toward her room and opened the door for her as they arrived.

Mercedes tried to force her mouth shut, but the words escaped regardless. 

"Altro offered to… to touch me." She looked everywhere in the room save for the man in front of her.

Marcelo's expression grew austere.

"Has he offended you? Overstepped himself?" He asked gravely.

Mercedes shook her head.

"He claimed that… you often require him to bring you, well…" she stuttered over her words.

"Release?" He supplied.

She bit both of her lips in embarrassment and nodded. A scoff came from Marcelo and she looked up at him in relief, interpreting it as denial. She turned and went to look over the parchment that bore her name.

"I hardly require him," Marcelo had muttered quietly to himself.

He went to her side and examined the text.

"Your writing will be strong and bold with influence from my brother. A king might mistake you for another king. Here, let me write something with you," he beckoned.

As Emeritus II had earlier, he stood behind her and slid the quill into her hand. His touch was delicate and he pulled their hands back to brush her nose with the feathered plume. She giggled and all tension went from her stance. Marcelo's form melded close to hers. When he wrote, his lines were thin, he did not press hard and the words curled in lovely strokes. His text was much longer than his brother's.

His chin rested on her shoulder and he did not move as he replaced the quill in its stand. Her hand remained enclosed in his. She traced the word with her free hand and he slipped his hand into hers when it stopped. He crossed their arms and Mercedes found herself in his embrace.

"Shall I tell you what it reads, my love?" He breathed against her ear.

She nodded and rested her head against the column of his throat.

"I have declared my innermost secret," she heard his voice rumble.

"Must I learn to read before I come to know it?" she wondered playfully and when she turned her head towards him, his lips pressed softly against hers. Warmth spread outward from the kiss and he adjusted himself to press his mouth fully to hers.

All sense seemed to suspend within her head. An urge to run bubbled as if it were drowning, but it did not surface. He released one of her hands and faced her, their embrace broken only for a moment. His kiss continued with insistence and passion. She gripped at his tunic just as she had as they'd danced on the table. He clutched her to him and pressed a sly tongue along her lips.

At her gasp, he took his opportunity and stole a deeper kiss. The groan that escaped him resounded in her head and unbidden, a soft moan formed in her throat. He moved to press delicate kisses across her neck and lifted her into him. His movements were swift and she felt like they were gliding. The plush of pillows and furs met her back and suddenly his face, framed in dashing black locks was above her.

"I'll make no attempts to hide my passion for you. I have waited for you for such a long time. I see your desire for me, and my Lord advises we act upon that which delights us." He paused and pushed himself back to his feet. "Though I would not frighten you in the slightest. I will leave you to your slumber, and bid you goodnight until the morrow."

Before a farewell had passed her lips, he was gone from the room. She lie atop the bedclothes and pressed her fingers to her slightly swollen lips. She had been kissed by her captor. Everything about the kiss should have been vile, but to recall it she felt only a warm connection to an uncommonly handsome man. A man who claimed he would protect her.

She shifted pathetically out of her overdress and dimly wondered if Altro would come with food for his brothers. Still atop the bedclothes, she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Matteo was sitting on her lap, his dark curls tickling under her chin. His arms were outstretched, holding a makeshift fishing pole. When Mercedes glanced up from his smiling face, she saw the River Tiber. Small boats passed on a sunny morning and her youngest brother giggled as he pulled in his catch. It was a clump of weeds, but he delighted in seeing anything at the end of his pole.

A rustling and heavy sigh alerted her to another's presence. She looked to her left and found Master Marcelo, dressed in a fine black tunic, resting beside her. He patted his chest and she moved to lay her head upon it. She removed her hand from her brother's waist and stroked the velvet of Marcelo's clothing.

The weight of her brother was suddenly missing and when she looked back, he had slipped soundlessly under the surface of the water.

"Matteo?" She called and when he did not resurface, she attempted to dive into the water.

Marcelo held her back firmly.

"Let him go," he whispered to her in a voice that was not his. "Let go of him. Let him go!" His voice grew louder until he was shouting.

She closed her eyes and when they opened she was in her meager house on the night she was taken. Elder Guilio gripped her savagely from behind and Matteo's tiny fingers were curled tightly in hers.

"LET HIM GO!" He raged at her.

* * *

At the sound of her brother's terrified shriek, she bolted upright in her bed in the keep.

She was on her feet in a flash. Her mind felt clearer than during dinner, and she recalled her mission for the night. She listened at the door for a few minutes and heard nothing. Carefully, she crept out once more and followed the path to the other captive's door.

At the door she hesitated and listened again for servants. She knelt to the floor and spied fire light glowing inside. In silence, she prayed the occupant was awake. She removed the silver spoon she had taken during dinner from her kirtle pocket and slid the head under the door. Catching the light, she shone it in what she hoped was a slow circle on the ceiling.

After a few minutes, she heard a creaking and pads of bare feet touching the wooden floor. A few more steps and she was sure they were looking at the spoon.

"Have you come to taunt me with cutlery? Your other forms of torture failed you, hmm?" The gravely sound of a little used voice came from the other side of the door. It was surely a man.

"Quiet yourself," Mercedes chastised. "Come low, we don't want them to hear."

She heard a gasp of shock and shuffling as the man settled to the ground.

"Who are you? How did you end up here?" He asked much more softly.

"I am Mercedes Gallo and I was offered to the Emeritus brothers in exchange for their stemming of the pestilence in Orvieto. There were two others before me. What is your name, sir?" As she responded, she glanced to each side of the hallway.

"I am Giacomo Copia, I have been imprisoned for an undetermined period of time. I kept account in my last cell, but since they moved me here I cannot say. How long have you been here?" He wondered.

"Only two days," she said, feeling somewhat foolish.

"Clever girl, however you escaped, could it free me?" He asked desperately.

Mercedes swallowed, unsure if she should answer.

"They leave my quarters unlocked. They… they do not treat me as a prisoner. It is as if they wish me to join them. The younger brother claims I am their 'Source of Joy'. The elder says I must worship their Lord–"

"Have they harmed you?" She heard him whisper.

"No."

"That is good to hear, but the others…" he trailed off.

"They claim the other girls have been married to fine husbands."

A shaking sigh came from the inside of the room. "The first one, she was here for many weeks. The younger brother can bewitch the the weak minded and she fell to him easily. I could hear them in their passions from within this cell. Then one night there were screams. The following day there was silence. The second one, she was here for perhaps a week and there were only screams. All day and night. Terrible screams. On the last day, suddenly the screams were further away and then they were gone. 

"The servant who speaks came to bring food soon after and his mask was dripping blood. They do not wish me to speak, but if I was able I believed someone should know the poor child's fate. When I asked, he told me she threw herself from her tower and did not have the sense to jump head first. He told me that he had pitied the frightened creature and used his silver helm to finish her final wish."

An image of Vittoria and Maria lying side-by-side encased in glass burst forth in Mercedes mind and she knew he was telling her the truth. She pressed the back of her hand over her mouth to hold in a cry of despair. _And Altro... he couldn't have,_ she thought.

"Have heart. The others were not allowed out of their cells. If you have such favor, you might use it to find an escape."

"We are in the eastern side of a keep within a fortress. Outside the keep, there are more and more walls and beyond that a high gate. Even if I could escape, the brothers might undo their healing of the city. I cannot value my freedom more highly than thousands of lives," she explained, and she felt the reality of it more intensely than she had before. A small sobbing sigh left her before she could hold it in.

She heard a dull thud on the other side of the door.

"I've placed my hand on the door," Copia narrated quietly.

Mercedes let out a brief chuckle and nodded. "I nodded and I'm placing my hand on the door."

"Do not despair. You are not alone, and we will find an answer together. If you can come each night, we will find a way soon. If you can spare any food, it would be much appreciated. They feed me very little and it can be difficult to keep my wits about me. Perhaps a book–"

"You can read?" She asked excitedly.

"Yes. I am… I was a priest," Copia answered solemnly.

"If I can bring you their texts and parchments, could you discover their plans for us?"

"Perhaps, but you must feign acceptance and fealty at all costs. If they believe you mean to resist, they have ways of making you more amenable," he revealed.

"They gave me wine at dinner and I felt strange…" Mercedes admitted.

"The wine is a distraction. The elder brother produces a strong potion of theriac. It was likely in your food to hide the flavor. It can be used as a sedative, but many use it for pleasure. It dulls the senses and lowers inhibitions. The opium in it takes care of most resistance from the recipient. They used it on me for weeks until I realized how to hide the food in my… well, my chamber pot." He cleared his throat.

"I will be cautious, thank you. You said you were a priest. Have they forced their Lord upon you? They claim he will reveal himself to me in time and embrace me, but refuse to say more." Once again she scanned the hallway.

"Woeful child, do you not know? The Lord they so exalt is the Black Prince himself. They adorn themselves in Satan's symbols and carry out rituals in his name. Dario, the one who calls himself Papa is Lucifer's earthly proxy. His Lord grants him untold power," as Copia exposed the truth, Mercedes felt her heart sink.

They worshipped the most unholy and profane of all creatures. King of Hell and father of lies. The tapestries and glassworks had placed their worship on display, but it was so horrible she had not considered it. A prayer to Mary fell from her lips.

Her fingers slipped down the door and she slid them under it as far as they would go. His fingers met hers and they laced flatly together.

"I'm frightened, Giacomo," she cried. "What hope have we against the powers of Satan?"

"We must be brave, Mercedes. Can you do that for me?" He asked and his fingers squeezed hers.

"I shall try."


	7. Lessons in Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mercedes attends lessons with both Emeritus brothers.

_Orvieto, Umbria, Italy - October, 1348_

Following her conversation with her fellow prisoner, Mercedes feigned sleep until Altro arrived to attend her. The identity of the brothers' deity had shaken her and rest would not come.

When Altro did arrive, she heard the door latch and light steps. His footsteps halted at the side of the bed, but he did not move again. Mercedes continued her ruse, waiting for him to wake her. She felt his eyes on her, but all was still. An agonizing amount of time passed and she grew more uneasy by the second.

Her breath stilled when she felt two calloused fingertips stroke her cheek. In a low voice she heard whispered words that seemed to be prayers falling from Altro's lips. When he grew quiet, he removed his hand.

"Dear lady…" he called softly.. "Wake now, His Divine Grace will arrive before long to begin your lesson."

She cracked open her eyes and gave a half-forced yawn.

"You didn't come last night," she told him airily.

He turned down her blankets. "I did, but you were sleeping so soundly that I dared not wake you."

She took his hand and rose from the bed. Altro hurried to switch out her chemise and pulled a scarlet kirtle and matching overdress over her head. When he reached for the side-ties on the overdress Mercedes saw that his right hand was bound.

"What's happened to you?" She asked and rested a hand on his forearm.

Altro paused and glanced away from her.

"I was punished for offending you yesterday, dear lady. Forgive me for speaking out of turn." He bowed his head and continued fastening the ties on her gown.

Mercedes stayed his arm again.

"You're hurt, I'll tie them. I shouldn't have mentioned what you said to Master Marcelo. I felt like I couldn't help myself. If I had known he would punish you…" she trailed off, not sure what to tell him.

She finished tying her overdress but found her eyes returning to Altro's hand. He was a servant of Satan, but she could not suppress the pity she felt for him.

"You must come tonight with food for your brothers. If I am asleep, wake me," she instructed.

"That's not—"

"It would please me," she insisted.

Altro nodded and she wondered what expression was hidden behind the mask.

Two firm raps sounded at the door before Papa Emeritus II entered the room. He was in his tunic and hose with his dark spectacles perched on his nose.

"Divine grace, I must set our lady's hair and then she is prepared for you," Altro announced immediately.

Emeritus II offered a faint bow to Mercedes.

"No need, today we shall admire the beauty of her hair in its natural state. You're dismissed, Altro," he ordered lightly with a gesture to the door.

Mercedes was surprised that he had used the name she had decided to give his servant when the night prior he had chided her for it. She curtsied to him and kept her head down.

He approached and offered his arm. She took it and he lead her to the nearest window casement. His large, warm hand rested over hers as he gazed down at the city.

They could see boats on the water and day-to-day life flourishing below. Mercedes wondered if she squinted hard enough if she could discern any of the people. Alas, they were merely dots flitting about to her eyes.

Emeritus II was quiet, but it was an easy silence. He did not seem to expect anything on her part. Which is precisely why his guest's next words shocked him.

"I would like to express my most _profound_ gratitude for what you have done for the city of Orvieto," she began.

His eyes grew wide, but apart from that he hid his reaction well.

"My thoughts have been so selfishly directed that I forgot the great service you have done." She stared up at him, hiding fear behind a mask of sincerity. "Whatever powers you possess, you have used them most magnanimously and I am so grateful. Could you forgive my combative words from yesterday, Papa?"

Her small hand laid atop his and he gave her a scrutinizing glance.

"You were uncertain and afraid, I would never take such words to heart," he assured her.

"I confess to you that I miss my family, but I know they would not be long for this world without your blessed intervention. Asmodeus must bestow a great deal of power upon you, sir," she told him.

Emeritus II's shoulders straightened and he raised his chin high.

"He has recognized my devotion and deemed me worthy of his gifts," he elaborated. Pride emanated from him at the words.

"The gift of healing others is most selfless, Divine Grace." She smiled up at him and his eyes closed before he looked away from her. Though only for a moment, she sensed an expression of guilt.

Without responding, he tugged her toward the writing desk. He pulled out the cushioned bench and nodded to it.

"Let us commence your lesson while your mood remains accommodating," his words suddenly carried a harsh tone.

She feared her attempt at seeming to accept her fate had been too heavy-handed. Without hesitation, she perched on the seat and rested her hands in her lap. He slid beside her and reached for the paper from the previous day.

He made a tutting noise when he read what Marcelo had written the night before, but it turned into a thoughtful hum as he scanned the page. When she could not sleep, Mercedes had decided to try her hand at copying what Emeritus II had written. The first attempt was a smeared ink blot of an "M" followed by thin, scratched lines. The second was more uniform, but still barely more than scratches. The third was a recognizable, but hardly perfect imitation of his own handwriting.

"You practiced…" he whispered with a hint of surprise.

"I want to learn, Divine Grace. I wanted to assure you that your efforts will not be wasted. Even if it does not come easily, then I will work harder," she promised.

He examined her features for what seemed like hours.

"We have waited so long…" his gloved hand captured her chin lightly. "Perhaps you could be what we need."

"Master Marcelo seems to think so," she answered.

"While I value his opinion, I prefer to make my own assessment. His desires–" his eyes flicked to the words Marcelo had written "–have often clouded his judgment."

"It is obvious your will is too strong to be blinded or misguided, Papa." Mercedes met his eyes and did not waver at his intense stare.

"Not by the comeliest face or rosiest lips, Mercedes." His thumb brushed over her bottom lip reverently. "And these are by far the rosiest lips I have ever beheld…"

Mercedes turned from him, blushing wildly and fearful of doing anything to further encourage his attention. A dark chuckle escaped him at the innocence of her reaction. He crumpled the used parchment and tossed it over his shoulder.

"Where to begin, my dear? I have so much to teach you."

* * *

Following their lesson, Papa Emeritus II bid Mercedes farewell and left her to study the first ten letters of the Latin alphabet. She worked at copying them and practicing their sounds.

A half-hour passed and Altro entered her room.

"My lady, Master Marcelo requests your presence for drawing lessons. I am to escort you," he announced.

Mercedes quickly shuffled away from the desk, but felt a lurching in her stomach. They had shared a kiss – her first true kiss, which she profoundly regretted after her conversation with Giacomo. Would he expect more? Not the chaste pecks his brother required, but passionate embraces?

"Will you stay during the lesson, Altro? I am… I feel less alone when you are with me," she admitted. It was true, and she was not certain why.

"I shall stay if you wish, my lady," he confirmed and then bowed low to her. He extended his uninjured hand and beckoned her. "Let us away now."

They travelled beyond the areas of the keep that she had already visited and into the Emeritus brothers' wing. Where the rest of the keep was tastefully adorned with artwork and decoration, the corridors and open rooms began to grow decadent with ornamentation.

Carpets covered the floors and tapestries lined the walls. Paintings of Catholic martyrs being butchered in the most grotesque fashions adorned one corridor. The one beyond was rife with paintings of orgies and even more devious sexual acts. Mercedes pressed close to Altro as they approached an open door with sunlight streaming inside.

She saw one of Altro's brothers standing at an easel, rubbing a stick of charcoal along parchment. An unoccupied easel was beside him.

"Good morning," Mercedes greeted Altro's brother.

He tilted his head at her in the same way that Altro had done the first time she saw him. Then he gestured to the easel beside him.

She moved closer and glanced at his work. It was a detailed drawing of a nude man reclining on a cushioned settle.

"You are not too fatigued from my brother's writing lesson, I hope," Marcelo said loudly from the other side of the room.

Mercedes peered over her easel and saw that Altro's brother had been drawing Marcelo himself. The younger master of the keep was entirely bare. One arm propped up his head while the other relaxed along his side. His left knee was raised, displaying the taut musculature of his thigh and calf. At the apex of his thighs, his sex was shamelessly exposed.

There was no disguising her gasp. She covered her mouth and instinctively bolted back to Altro. Her face pressed into his black tunic and turned away from Marcelo.

An alluring laugh peeled from the reclining man.

"A blush would have sufficed, dear lady," Marcelo teased her. "Though you do flatter me."

Altro further pivoted so that he blocked Marcelo from her view.

"Master Marcelo, perhaps you might begin lessons with fruit or flow–" Altro began.

"Speak carefully, I would hate to punish you further after I was certain you had learned from yesterday's mistake," Marcelo warned him dangerously. It was the first time Mercedes recalled him seeming angry.

Altro pressed a hand against her shoulder.

"Go to your easel now, my lady," he said coolly.

She nodded slowly and turned, staring at Altro's brother as she took her place. Her eyes fixed on the blank parchment before her. Altro's brother tapped the charcoal resting on a platform between them. She took one up and mimicked the hold he had on it. His eyes flicked over to Marcelo and made a deep rumbling sound low in his throat. He then drew his arms down his sides and over his head.

"He instructs you to begin with the outer form, as he has done," Altro interpreted.

Mercedes hesitated and Altro's brother pointed two fingers at Marcelo and stamped his foot.

Her eyes snapped to Marcelo and she focused on his face. He wore a smirk and his gaze was playful. She rested the charcoal on the parchment and began with what she hoped would be the crown of his head. After a few strokes, Altro's brother stopped her hand. A foreboding crackle and drone rolled out of his mouth.

"Your first strokes are too large, the proportions are already off. Smaller, more delicate," Altro interpreted again.

Mercedes nodded and started a new parchment. This time, Marcelo's expression was fixed and enticing. She began with careful movements and glanced frequently at Altro's brother for approval. The outline of his shoulder was drawn without interruption.

"Have you seen a naked man?" Marcelo asked suddenly.

"My father and brothers," Mercedes answered as she traced out the area where his fingertips met his thigh. "And artworks…" she added.

"An admirable subject, the classical nude. There is such beauty to be found in human form, wouldn't you agree?"

"Many people are very beautiful," she offered blandly.

"Am I beautiful? That is… in your opinion, do you find me very beautiful?" Marcelo wondered.

An unstoppable blush swept from her chest to her neck and then to her cheeks and she could do nothing to hide her blazing skin.

"Of course, Master Marcelo," she breathed softly. "I am not blind."

He laughed, clearly pleased with himself. The charcoal recreated the line of his calf and soon the upper outline of his form was complete. Her teacher nodded and the crackling sound of a hearth rose out of him.

"Define his limbs, my brother tells you."

Mercedes drew a thin arm, devoid of the shape or muscle she saw before her. But it was more or less positioned correctly. She carved out the line of his jaw far more accurately. His thigh appeared much too thick and ended short of the apex of his legs.

When she finished, she looked bashfully to her tutor. A rolling hum sounded and he made a rude gesture toward his groin.

Mercedes closed her eyes and turned to Altro. She shook her head in utter embarrassment.

"Servants, leave us," Marcelo ordered suddenly. He shot Altro a look that warned against defiance.

Altro acquiesced and left the room, followed shortly by his brother.

"You admire my face, but my body is repulsive to you," Marcelo mused.

"No, Master Marcelo—" she attempted to counter.

"Yet you can't bear to look."

"It's not proper. It would be sinful to admire you in such a manner."

"Even if I am inviting you to do so?" Marcelo sat up and slowly pushed himself to his feet. "I believe it would only truly be sinful if your admiration was lustful."

He stepped closer, swaying languidly in his movements. He stopped a few feet away.

"You cast an artist's gaze at me now, yes? Not a lover's." His fingers caressed his lips. "Not like last night. Were those embraces sinful to you?"

Her eyes fixed on his pouting lips and she longed for them.

"They were… they should have been, but the wine made me feel strange," she lied, knowing full well the true cause of her compliance was Emeritus II's theriac.

"There was pleasure, yes?"

She nodded and he took a step closer. 

"We could share more pleasure…" he whispered and let the words hang between them.

"You're indecent," she replied. Her eyes continued to train on his face. While their eyes were locked she slid a stick of charcoal up her sleeve.

He laughed lightly. "That may be, but it is not my nakedness that makes me so. There is freedom in bearing yourself—and honesty. Clothing is nothing more than adornment in this home. If you disrobed before me, you would have nothing to fear. My desires shall never supersede your consent."

Mercedes stiffened at the mention of her disrobing.

"I do not ask you to undress, but I do invite you to touch me… if you wish," Marcelo offered.

Her eyes flicked down to his pale chest. It appeared smooth, like marble with faint blood vessels creating veins of color. She knew he was warm, but it seemed like flesh that would be chill to the touch. Her fingers slid over his fine skin and rested above his heart. Marcelo pressed her palm closer and she felt his heart beating. His pulse quickened under her touch.

"If I reached out to you would I sense the same excitement in your blood?" He asked with a raised brow. "My own is impossible to hide."

She was tempted to look down, but instead her gaze suddenly shifted behind Marcelo. A faint expression of recognition and then horror twisted her features.

"My lady? What's the matter?" Marcelo inquired.

Mercedes withdrew her hand and moved around him toward a tapestry on the wall. It was extremely old but well preserved.

"I have seen this man." She gestured to the central figure standing atop a mound of bodies. "With this same death's head painted on his face." The man appeared to have been a victor in a great battle. Crisp skullpaint adorned his face. A massive warhammer settled over one shoulder.

"Ah, yes." He stood beside her and sighed as he viewed it with reverence. "A battle of carnage and blood and glory… a deluge of wrathful souls– or so the histories claim," he corrected himself. "This is… an Emeritus ancestor, and my namesake."

Mercedes traced the letters that embroidered the tapestry and silently recited those she recognized.

"Do you know the meaning of the name Marcelo?" He whispered heatedly into her ear. His lips pressed gently to her throat and his kiss pulled her attention from the tapestry. A hand lightly traced her waist and she rested her back against his bare chest. His fingertips grazed over her hips and he drew them firmly back as he pressed forward.

"It means _hammer_," he groaned. 

Even through the heavy fabrics of her gown she could feel him. With one hand she grasped his forearm and the other she braced on the wall beside the tapestry. Each time his lips touched her skin she wanted to sing. He was all of the comfort and warmth she had ever desired and she welcomed it.

"Virgin of mercy, let me feel your skin against mine," he begged, panting into her shoulder.

The words struck a chord within her and she opened her eyes on the man with skullpaint. She recalled a corpse-like figure in repose and a man revealing himself in firelight. Marcelo had prayed to Satan and told her of his eldest brother's plight. He had threatened to cut her youngest brother's throat when she refused his orders.

When her stance turned rigid, Marcelo's advances paused.

"My lady?"

"Forgive me, there is an ache in my head and my stomach is troubled. I fear I took too much wine last night. Perhaps I should rest," she lied quickly.

Marcelo hid his disappointment, then backed away and took her hand.

"Yes, come sit and I will fetch a servant to bring you something to eat. It will stave off your discomfort."

Mercedes rested on the cushioned settle and made a show of feeling unwell. Marcelo rushed from the room naked as a babe and took off toward the kitchens. She watched him leave and chastised herself for enjoying the movement of his exposed thighs and bottom. He was truly the most beautiful creature she had ever beheld. She shook him from her thoughts and crept toward the door.

To the left of the corridor there was only one more room with an ornate pair of double doors. One door was emblazoned with a seal reading "D.E." while the other bore a similar marking that read "II". Mercedes considered the amount of time it would take for Marcelo to return and she bolted toward the last room on the left.

She tugged at the large bronze ring handle and the door swung open. Beams of light entered from between the curtains and cast slivers of brightness in the dark room. Emeritus II's chamber was an ode to darkness. All the furnishings were black or a shade of dark emerald.

Mercedes ran her fingers over his fine damask bedclothes. A jarring white object rested at the bottom of his bed. Upon inspection she realized it was the chemise she had worn the previous day. It had not yet been washed and carried the perfumed scents of her bath. Though curious, she did not disturb the garment.

A large wardrobe loomed across from the bedstead and Mercedes carefully peeked inside. She found lengths of chain and rope and shackles. A coiled whip hung from the inside of the door along with variations of smaller whip-like instruments. In lacquered cases she found facsimiles of the male sex in every size she could imagine and some she didn't want to. She discovered other tools she could not begin to guess at the purpose of.

Her cheeks were red when she shut the wardrobe and turned to his desk. Manuscripts were neatly arranged and his utensils were organized very purposefully. He had taken the parchment she had practiced on the previous night and it rested directly in the center of the desk. A flicker of pride moved in her chest.

Her head whipped about when she heard distant footsteps in the corridor. _Please be Marcelo_, she prayed. The steps were heavy and measured, surely not Marcelo.

In a panic, she snuck back behind the heavy emerald curtains near the desk and gave them a quick pull to stem their fluttering.

The very next instant Emeritus II entered the chamber and forced the door closed behind him.

"...bad reaction to theriac, hah! Idiot boy, I could fucking strangle him," he was speaking harshly to himself.

Mercedes could see him clearly through a slit in the curtains and she saw his shoulders fall.

"Perhaps the ghoul served her an excess…" he pondered as he removed his kid skin gloves. He tossed his hat on the bed and ran a hand over his bare head. His fingers trailed along the bed until they reached Mercedes' chemise.

He crossed back to the door and secured it with a bolt before returning to the bed. He caressed the fabric of her chemise and slowly plucked open the buttons on his tunic. Mercedes' mouth hung open when he brought the garment to his cheek and pressed it close. He inhaled deeply and nestled into it.

"_Ah, Mercedes…_" he whispered and her eyes grew wide in surprise.

Emeritus II drew the fabric over his chest and clutched it desperately. One hand shifted to tug down his breeches and soon he had a grip on himself.

Mercedes wanted to stop him, but she was terrified of what the man would do if he knew she had crept into his room. She was not in a hurry to find out the purpose of his bizarre cabinet of curiosities. In the same vein, her own curiosity prevented her from simply looking away.

Marcelo had invited her to look at his nakedness and she had refused his temptation. Emeritus II was none the wiser and that elicited a strange feeling of power in Mercedes. 

His exposed chest was pale and extremely thin. She saw the outline of his ribs, but also wiry muscles that flexed as he braced himself on the bed. He continued his exertions as she silently watched. His hand on the bed gripped the chemise as he abused his rigid member.

"Those lips…" Emeritus II moaned. "To feel those rosy lips around me…"

Mercedes covered her mouth firmly to hold in a gasp. He imagined her in the place of his own hand and it sent a wave of shame over her. Shame at such sin, but also at some small vain part of her that felt pleasure at being wanted.

She would never lie with a man who was not her husband, but she wondered what the penance might be for considering it. His sex was quite large and while she had heard barmaids make mention that was desirable, she was not inclined to believe them at first sight.

He continued to mutter obscene desires as he reached his end and she watched as a small book worked its way from his pocket and fell to the floor unnoticed. As he finished, he wove the chemise about his member and choked out her name once more. He wiped himself swiftly and tossed the soiled garment to the floor.

Emeritus made quick work of righting himself and left the room with a straight backed gait and his head held high.

She was shaken and could not remember her reason for sneaking into the room in the first place. When she moved out from behind the curtains she nearly stumbled over the book that Emeritus II had dropped. Inside were pages filled with his handwriting. _I must get this to Giacomo,_ she thought.

Mercedes lifted her skirts and tucked the book securely in her hose before scanning the corridor. It was empty and she made her way back toward Marcelo's room. As she was about to enter, he exited.

"Where have you been?" He questioned immediately. It was the first time he had intentionally sounded displeased.

"I was worried, Master Marcelo. In truth, I was a little frightened at being alone," she answered bashfully.

He had donned a robe and the sleeve draped gracefully when he drew the back of his hand across her cheek.

"You are marble white, poor lady. Forgive me. I shall bring you to your chamber and have the servants bring your restoratives there," he instructed.

She nodded and walked beside him. They passed the carnal artworks and tapestries of butchered martyrs and her stomach sank at the thought that as far as she knew, either were likely her intended fate.

When they reached her chamber, Marcelo enveloped her in a warm embrace. He placed a kiss on her forehead before ushering her inside.

Mercedes immediately went to her desk and pulled out a few pages of parchment and then fetched the spoon from the previous night. She listened at the door and when she heard nothing, she made her way to Giacomo's room.

Again she shined the spoon under the door and within moments she heard shuffling as the occupant settled on the floor on the other side.

"Mercedes?" He asked with so much hope in his voice that it made her heart ache.

"Yes, I am here. I should not stay long. Dario Emeritus misplaced this book–" she shoved it under the crack in the door, "–I don't know if it will be any help to us, but I need you to read it and write down anything useful." She pushed the parchment under the door and then rolled the charcoal stick.

"Misplaced? That does not sound like him…" Giacomo mused.

"I… I took it from his chamber. And I need to replace it before he notices its absence."

"You were in his chamber?" Giacomo asked, startled.

"I snuck in and it fell from his pocket while he–" Mercedes stopped abruptly, not wanting to mention what she had seen to a priest. "I just need you to be quick, I beg you."

She heard Giacomo flipping through the pages.

"It's mostly notes on their Satanic rituals. There will be a gathering of brethren soon to celebrate, er…" he made a few thoughtful sounds. "Lord, no… it is to celebrate their success in finding a Holy element for a rite of sacrificial rebirth."

"S-sacrificial?" Mercedes whimpered.

"I'm afraid that is what it reads," he answered softly. "You must do what you can to escape this horrible place. There are notes here that make mention of their fondness for you. You might use that to your advantage, but do not fall prey to their evils, dear girl."

"I remembered the night I arrived and found their elder brother is in a state of half life. I saw Vittoria and Maria's bodies preserved in glass cases. Everything you told me yesterday, some part of me didn't want to believe, but it's all true." Her voice trembled as she continued, "I fear they mean to sacrifice me to restore their brother to health."

A thud sounded on the door as Giacomo rested his head on it.

"We can't know that is their intention, even if what we have discovered points in that direction. You are strong, I can sense it." She saw the shadow of his hand under the door and she laced her fingers in his.

"I was thinking that I may be able to pick the lock on your cell if I had the right tools. I've never done it myself, but when travelers died in their rooms of the pestilence the innkeeper's assistant sometimes picked the lock. You could be in and out and the brothers would never know," she said hopefully.

"Dear child, don't worry over me. Don't put yourself in needless danger. Here," he pushed Emeritus II's book back out, "Be sure to get this back to him."

She was quiet, but Giacomo sensed there was more she wanted to tell him.

"Mercedes?"

"Father…" she began. "Might you absolve me before I go?" He heard tears in her voice.

"Whatever for, child?"

"Master Marcelo paraded himself in the nude today and while I tried not to admire him… I know in my heart I wanted to. I struggled to push away lustful feelings," she admitted shamefully.

"Satan has disguised his disciple in an angel's visage and still you resisted him. That is the strength I see in you. No cause for absolution at all," he responded in a calm tone.

"That is… not the entirety, Father. When I stole Dario's book, he was–" her voice shook dangerously, "I was hiding and he returned to his room and… well, abused himself," she finally finished. 

Giacomo cleared his throat. "That is not your sin to absolve–"

"I watched him, Father. I could have closed my eyes or said a silent prayer, but I watched him. He was whispering my name and holding my underclothes, and a part of me felt excited by it. I know it's impure and I beg you to grant me absolution," she pleaded.

"Curiosity is not a sin. The desire to feel wanted smacks of lust, but you did not act on your desires. Perhaps it is my time in captivity, but I see nothing so serious that requires penance." Giacomo hummed. "If you are willing to, you might use their desires against them. They have a sibling rivalry and you could stoke its fire. Blind them to your true intentions," he suggested.

"That sounds rather devious, Giacomo," Mercedes smiled.

"When in Hell, one must fight fire with fire."


	8. October Lily

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mercedes sets several plans in motion. NSFW. Explicit sexual content. Very minor violence.

_Orvieto, Umbria, Italy - October, 1348_

Mercedes had returned to her room after her conversation with Giacomo. She quickly hatched an idea for returning Emeritus II’s book to him. The plan itself was simple in its elegance and required almost no work on her part.

She passed time in her chamber, first plucking away at her gittern and then brushing her hair out before the looking glass. In her reflection she imagined the cherubic face of her youngest brother Matteo. She wondered if he thought of her, or if he could even understand why she was gone. Her sister Elena would suffer without her, and perhaps rue that she would take on household duties. Her brother Giac would be strong for the others, and do what he could to counteract whatever state her father had fallen into.

“Papa…” she muttered, thinking of her father. Did they release him after she was taken into the keep? Was he pounding at the fortress walls day and night? Was he taken to bed with sadness? Would she see him again?

The heavy door to her chamber was thrown open and battered against the wall. Emeritus II tore into the room and before she could move his hand was fisted into her hair and he wrenched her head back, almost tearing her off of the seat.

"Where is it? Where is my fucking ledger?" He roared.

Her eyes went wide, but she held in a shriek of pain.

"Ledger?" She cried and was rewarded with another rough jerk backward.

"My book, you little witch!" He growled. His teeth were bared and she feared he might bite her.

Mercedes pointed toward the desk where she had left it sitting in plain view. She had realized that the best course of action was the most effortless - to let him believe he had left it behind.

"I found it beneath the bench after our lesson," she whimpered. His grip eased immediately. "I had planned to return it to you at dinner…"

For the first time since she had arrived in the keep, she was terrified enough to cry openly. Her only chance at salvation was that he believed her lie.

The hand in her hair shifted to hold her throat.

"Did you… did you…" the angry words died on his tongue when he realized he knew the answer to his question.

"I couldn't read it if I wanted to," she reasoned and grasped at his hand.

Tears cascaded down her cheeks and streaked over his wrist as they fell from her chin.

"Please, Papa," she begged him. "Please…"

The fire in his eyes faded. His hand slid upward to cup her cheek and he searched her fearful eyes. He held her face between his palms and pressed his forehead gently against hers.

"Oh, dearest," he breathed. "Of course you are innocent."

His lips brushed the crown of her head and he pulled her tight to his chest as her cries turned to sobs.

"I was so frightened…" she whispered into his tunic. "I'm a good girl, I promise."

"Yes, yes… hush now, my child," he soothed. "Dry your eyes, good girl. Is there anything I might offer to ease your suffering–aside from that which you know will be denied," he quickly amended.

She thought of what might be most advantageous and considered Giacomo's words from earlier. Her pitiful eyes stared up at him and she pursed her lips, knowing just how obscenely fond of them he was.

"Read to me?" She asked in a small voice. "Not from your ledger, but a text you enjoy. Outside near your garden."

Altro entered and had scarcely placed both feet in the room before Emeritus II was giving him orders.

"Fetch me _ La Vita Nuova _ from the library and a thick blanket. Arrange them beneath the oak tree near my garden. We will be enjoying the afternoon outside."

"A splendid notion, Divine Grace. It shall be done. Might I also suggest a wrap for the lady, if the wind offends?" Altro bowed his head, awaiting a reply.

"Yes, yes. Now go and be quick about it." Emeritus II waved him off.

As Altro left, Emeritus II assisted Mercedes up from her stool and took her arm in his. The back of a leather clad finger stroked away the remainder of her tears.

"There you are, no more sadness. Not from you, my darling." His words were soft, yet somehow seemed like an order.

She nodded. "Lead on, Divine Grace."

* * *

It was the first time she had been outside in days and the sun was already setting in the sky. It was a clear, but crisp autumn day. When they rounded the keep, Altro had finished arranging everything Emeritus II had requested. The oak tree was massive and a blanket was laid between two large, creeping roots.

Emeritus II gestured elegantly to the blanket and bid that Mercedes make herself comfortable. When she settled, he took up _ La Vita Nuova _ and rested with his back to the trunk at the apex of the large roots. The leg closest to her stretched out while he propped up the other.

"This is a Tuscan text by Dante Alighieri." He tapped the small, plain book on his knee. "While I do not hold the same ideals as the man, any fool might see the transparent beauty in his prose and verse. Tell me, are you acquainted at all with the concept of courtly love?" His eyebrows rose as he waited for her to respond.

"I know what it is… but I am not entirely certain that I understand it, Papa," she replied honestly. Orvieto was metropolitan enough for the popular stories of knights in love with princesses they might never woo to have circulated. "Men devoting themselves to ladies that will not look their way. Why would one not set their eyes on someone attainable?"

"A cynical assessment for someone so young. Is there not honor and respect in admiring the object of your affection from afar? Perhaps the woman is married or in a nunnery, or perhaps a man desires another man. Surely society deems that love should remain at a distance?" He posed and waited again.

"Yes, but a man shouldn't love a married woman or a nun or—"

"You believe a man can choose whom he loves? Or that a woman can do the same?" He asked.

"I've never been in love, I don't know," she answered sheepishly and picked at the hem of her dress.

"We have no choice in the matter. Love is chaos. There are moments of sweetness in it, but it is a chasm of uncertainty. The world outside these walls tries to cage it, and this text is a singular confession of a man who captured some of that chaos in the confines of society. And he transformed it into doleful brilliance," Emeritus II was animated in his speech and Mercedes glimpsed the reverence he bore for the book in his hand.

She shifted closer. "I want to hear it, Divine Grace."

"Very well," he cleared his throat and opened to the first page. "In the book of my memory…" he began.

Mercedes listened intently to the story of a young boy falling into an unrequited that would not even be relinquished decades later at her death. In a strange mix of prose and verse, he described his love for Beatrice and the bliss and torture of it.

When Emeritus II spoke the words "I composed this sonnet, which begins, _ All of the voices vying. _" she saw a rare smile spread on the man's face. She crept closer and pressed herself to his shoulder.

"This is your favorite sonnet, Papa?" She asked.

He gave her a swift glance and nodded. He set the book aside and recited the rest from memory.

"All of the voices vying in my brain

are talking love: such contrast and discord,

one makes me wish that Love should be my lord,

another says his lordship is insane;

one, urging hope, brings sweetness back again, 

another’s why my tears have often poured.

They’ve only joined forces when they’ve implored

Mercy, convulsed with fear the heart can’t rein.

And then I can’t decide which voice to heed:

wanting to write, I start with that . . . then this . . . 

I’m so far gone in amorous confusion!

And if I want to come to some conclusion

among them, I must call my nemesis,

Madonna Mercy: Shield me in my need."

Mercedes rested against him and her head fell on his shoulder during his recitation. He wrapped an arm around her and his long, thin fingers curled into her flowing dark hair. He stroked her neck lightly.

"How horribly sad… to carry affection that only caused such pain," Mercedes whispered into his shoulder. "Though he did transform his pain into great beauty." She was enchanted by the sonnet, even if Dante labeled her namesake his nemesis in the last two lines. Did Emeritus II think of her as some form of protection?

"An injustice of the status quo. Fortunately there are other schools of thought. Purely taboo in nature." He continued to stroke her neck. The hairs there stood on end, but it was not unpleasant.

"What other schools of thought?" She wondered.

"I told you I do not prescribe to the ideals of courtly love, though it is a romantic and thought-provoking concept. Our Lord, Asmodeus encourages that we seek out and fulfill our desires. Where it is warranted, love should be freely given. Concealment of affection is not a malady any true child of Asmodeus has suffered from. Love is surely insanity, but Our Lord does not cast a judging eye on whatever form it takes."

"Even if your lover were married or a nun or a man?" Mercedes clarified.

"Even then," he confirmed. 

"That's—"

"Blasphemy?" Emeritus II finished. "In the eyes of a quick-tempered and petulant god, perhaps. Asmodeus is the patron of those your previous god would have cast out. He welcomes them with open arms. He welcomes you." 

As he spoke, Mercedes inspected the sizable breastpin that Emeritus II wore over his heart. It was the symbol of his Lord Satan. It was silver and adorned with small gemstones. Her fingers traced it as a plan formed in her mind.

"Your emblem is so beautiful. I wish I could feel His embrace. Might I pray to Him?" She asked, her fingers still moving on his breastpin.

"Here," Emeritus II brushed her hand away and unfastened the bauble from his tunic. The sharp metal pin came free and Mercedes did not have to conceal her joy as he fastened it over her heart. "Call to Him tonight in your chamber. Focus on this symbol and He will find you."

Mercedes pressed a lingering kiss to his jaw before settling her head on his shoulder once more.

"Thank you, Papa."

They sat quietly for many moments and gazed at the garden before them. The flowers and herbs swayed in the breeze.

"When I was very young, my father and I would sit at a tree like this. I would rest my head in his lap and he would pet my hair as we watched boats on the River Tiber. I have never felt more at peace than in those early days," she admitted.

The hand stroking her neck stilled and Mercedes shifted downwards. She nestled her head carefully into his thigh and continued watching the garden. His breathing was controlled, but his limbs had stiffened considerably.

"How do your lilies continue to grow in October?" She wondered.

His large hand caressed her hair lightly.

"More of Asmodeus' gifts," he answered. His voice was more airy than before.

"Such magnificent endowments. Your brother and I were admiring your lilies the other day."

The hand in her hair flexed at the mention of his brother.

"We had a drawing lesson today. Master Marcelo was the model. Bare as a babe. I was mortified," she admitted.

"That is his way, flaunting his gifts. I passed him when he was on his way to the kitchens. He told me you were unwell."

Mercedes nodded into his thigh. "A headache and upset stomach. I only had a glass, but perhaps red wine does not agree with me, Papa."

"You will forgo it at tonight's dinner then," Emeritus II instructed.

She nodded again.

"Tell me."

She turned her head to look up at him. "Yes, Papa."

His eyes were predatory, but his touch remained gentle.

"The servants will call us for dinner soon, rest awhile, my dear."

She looked to the flowers and imagined their sway was the rippling of water and that the servant of Satan she rested upon was her father.

* * *

It was dark when he roused her. Altro was nearby and Emeritus II lifted her to her feet as if she were weightless. They made their way inside directly toward the dining hall.

Marcelo was already seated and stood when they entered.

"Where have you been?" He demanded from his elder brother. "I've been waiting three quarters of an hour."

Emeritus II ignored him entirely and escorted Mercedes to a seat directly to the left of the head of the table. They sat, but Marcelo remained standing.

"Sit, brother, if you are so famished," Emeritus II ordered.

Marcelo's seat was halfway down the lengthy table. He picked up his chair and made a show of bringing it closer and slamming it down on the right side of his brother. He sat heavily.

"Dear Mercedes, if my brother has been keeping you from dinner, I apologize," he offered in a sweet voice.

"I believe it was I who kept him, Master Marcelo. He did not wish to disturb my slumber even though I had chosen his lap for a resting place," she laughed.

Marcelo blanched and looked from Mercedes to his brother.

"We took advantage of the fine weather and read by the garden," Emeritus II added. He sat back as his dinner was served.

Through gritted teeth Marcelo managed to huff, "How lovely."

"If weather permits, perhaps we can spend time there tomorrow?" Mercedes asked.

"I can think of nothing better," Emeritus II agreed. He grazed her shoulder with his fingertips and Mercedes swore she heard Marcelo's teeth scrape together.

"You are feeling better, my lady?" Marcelo wondered, desperate to change the subject.

"Oh yes, it was so considerate of you to have the soup and tonic sent to my chamber. Along with my rest by the garden I feel myself again." She smiled at Marcelo and caressed Emeritus II's breastpin. When Marcelo noticed it his eyes flicked darkly toward his brother. "I fear I was… unprepared for our drawing lesson today, Master Marcelo. Tomorrow I shall be more eager to learn."

Marcelo seemed to revive at that.

"I am pleased to hear it. There shall be a new subject tomorrow, perhaps something less distracting." He winked at her and raised a glass of wine. She raised a water glass and all three shared a toast.

Altro approached with her meal and she noticed for the second time that while she was served chicken the Emeritus brothers were dining on another, redder meat.

Emeritus II observed her notice.

"We are gluttons, my brother and I. We sustain only on the finest, rarest of red meats. I hazard to guess that you would not enjoy the manner in which we prepare our meals. Hardly cooked at all, you see?" Papa explained to her.

Her brows rose and she gave a polite smile.

"You may be shocked at what I enjoy. I would try it if you allow, Papa?" She asked.

The brothers immediately shared a glance, and Emeritus II nodded.

"Of course you must have a taste, my lady," he replied graciously. He cut into the flesh and blood rushed out over his platter. He skewered it and presented her with the morsel.

The chair beneath her shuddered and she saw Altro at her side.

"Forgive my clumsiness, my lady," he implored. She noticed his eyes were unusually wide beneath his mask.

"Back to the kitchens with you," Marcelo shooed away his servant.

Mercedes turned back to find the meat before her. It was practically raw and dripping onto her platter. She took it in her mouth and Emeritus II removed the skewer. She chewed it slowly and as it sat on her tongue she began to savor it. Her eyes closed at the taste. The tang of the blood and a deep, tender and juicy flavor spread over her taste buds.

She licked her lips before opening her eyes. "Rare to be sure, but delicious. Thank you, Papa."

Emeritus II chuckled darkly. "You are welcome to partake in our desires. You are a worthy convert." He raised his glass to her and took more wine.

Throughout the remainder of dinner they spoke of many lighter subjects and Mercedes strove to behave herself. At the mention of other clergy members she recalled the mention of a gathering in Emeritus II's ledger.

"Do you ever have visitors, masters?" She asked offhandedly.

"Before we took to travelling, we resided with our some-hundred clergy siblings in a house of worship. I have invited members of the high table to what I hope will be a splendid affair in our keep. Visitors should begin arriving within a week," Emeritus II explained.

"Is the affair to celebrate a Holy day of your faith?" Mercedes followed.

Emeritus II gave a wide, proud smile. "In a way. It is to formally welcome our source of joy into the church. You, my dear, shall be our guest of honor."

While she nodded at them in gratitude, Mercedes contained the unease she felt within.

* * *

Marcelo escorted her to her chamber following dinner. He seemed thoughtful and offered little in the way of conversation. When they reached her door, he bid her wait.

"If it pleases you, we might conduct your drawing lesson outdoors tomorrow. If I had known you longed for fresh air, I would have taken you out today," he told her in an apologetic tone.

Mercedes shook her head. "We don't need to have the lesson outside. Your brother angered himself and I thought fresh air would do him good. I want to have our lesson in your chambers," she replied. On her toes, she leaned in to press a chaste kiss to his cheek. "Just the two of us."

He moved a gentle hand to the back of her head and took a kiss, it was deep but not fierce. His lips were soft and warm, and they seemed to send jolts of delight somewhere deep within her.

"I would stay, but my brother requires me. I shall think of you in my slumber. Pray do the same for me," he whispered against her cheek and then he was stalking away toward his wing of the keep.

She slid into her room and barely waited before bounding out again toward Giacomo's cell. As she ran, she plucked Emeritus II's breastpin from her overdress and brandished its pointed stickpin.

When she reached his cell, she inserted the pin without preamble and began moving it around in the lock. She heard shuffling inside.

"Giacomo, it's Mercedes. I'm going to try to pick the lock, but I have to be quick." She jiggled the pin and heard several encouraging clicks.

"You don't need to put yourself in danger for my sake," he reasoned.

She tried the handle, but it was still locked. She dropped to her knees and stared into the mechanism the best she could. The pin seemed to press something in, but she wasn't sure what.

"Mercedes listen, I'm not worth your worry. Please go before they hear you. I couldn't live with myself if you were punished for trying to help me escape," he pleaded.

"I am no coward and I will not leave you to rot here," she replied heatedly. "I can do this."

Again she tried and again she failed. Panic rose in her and she worked the pin more forcefully.

"They'll hear you…" Giacomo whispered, his sense of dread similarly rising.

The sound of heavy footsteps came from the hallway down the right and Mercedes gave a sigh of defeat.

"I will free you, by whatever means necessary. That is my promise to you," she breathed through the lock before sprinting back to her room.

The heavy footfalls eventually passed by her chamber and continued on. She dared not try it again knowing that some sort of patrol was out. Mercedes dressed down to her chemise and climbed into bed. She was not sure when Altro would come with food for his brothers, but she would rest until then.

A single candle was lit at her bedside as she nestled beneath the bedclothes. Emeritus II's breastpin laid beside the candle and she stroked it. _ Please let me find a way to free Giacomo, _she prayed silently before she could stop herself. She rolled her eyes and settled back against the pillows.

Her eyes fell closed and she imagined Marcelo reclining on his cushioned settle. A pulse of heat spread over her. She attempted to shake the image from her mind, but it was only replaced by the sway of his hips. The vision of his bottom as he left the room. The member that had rested between his legs, the one she tried so hard not to stare at in awe.

A shaking breath tore through her and she pressed her thighs together to stem the ache between them. She recalled Emeritus II crying out her name. His hand pumping over his cock at thoughts of her. Imagining himself bucking into her mouth. She imagined him sliding between her lips, how he would taste on her tongue. She saw herself tasting him by the oak tree.

Her hand moved down beneath the bedclothes and she made a fist over her stomach. She had never considered such a thing. Her instincts told her to move her hand between her legs, but she knew it was a sin.

A sudden recollection of Marcelo grinding into her as she braced herself on the wall sprang forth and she placed her palm over her sex. It was warm. Slowly, she gathered her chemise up until she felt flesh.

She imagined Altro behind her with his hands in her hair. Her middle finger dipped between her lips and she gasped mildly at the wetness she discovered. With her eyes closed she pretended it was the hand of another that explored her sex. Her fingers slid along a glorious bundle of nerves and a soft moan escaped her. She found it again and circled it. Another sigh of pleasure shuddered through her body and her movements quickened.

Marcelo's face entered her mind, wearing a distinctly wolfish expression. _ He would touch me, _ she thought. _ He would make a woman of me. I want to know what it feels like before I die. _She was hurtling toward some high place and knew she was prepared to fling herself from it when the door to her chamber opened.

Mercedes's entire body went rigid in fright and embarrassment. She saw the glint of her lone candle reflecting off of Altro's mask. He lit a lamp near the door and she noticed the basket he carried full of food.

"I've brought food for my brother's as you requested, my lady. I'm pleased to see I did not wake you," Altro told her as he crossed to the hearth and began a blaze.

"No… you didn't," she replied haltingly. Her hand shifted to the side and she pulled down her chemise. She scrambled out of the bed and unpacked the basket. Chicken, potatoes and green onion. A sachet of salt. "Dinner was so wonderful, it's a shame you can't cook for yourself," she said over her shoulder.

"I would not want to do anything more to upset my masters, and his Divine Grace was very clear," he responded as he approached her.

She turned to him and her forearm caught the sachet, shoving it onto the floor by her feet. Altro went down on his knee to retrieve it, but he remained there unmoving for a few moments.

"Altro? Are you—" she started to ask, but stopped when his gaze snapped up toward her. His nostrils flared as he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He went down on both knees and pressed his forehead into her thigh. He turned his head and the horn on his mask snagged the fabric of her chemise. It dug into her skin, but not enough to be painful.

He inhaled her scent and turned his head the other way. His bandaged hand crept up her calf while the other brought her hand to his nose. He sniffed and a strange whimper tore through the air. Before she could stop him, he snuck her index and middle fingers beneath his mask and into his mouth.

"What are you doing?" She shrieked and wrenched her hand away. She pitched backward and landed on her bottom. Altro leapt toward her in a movement that was more agile than any animal she had ever seen. He hovered above her, struggling to keep his eyes on her face.

"Forgive me, I know what you've done. I can smell it— taste it on you. You are so sweet, my lady. So fresh. I'll master myself in a moment, but the treasure between your pale and trembling thighs is my master right now," he growled and his breath was hot on her cheek.

He shifted up and she heard his set of keys clink together and caught a glimpse of them inside his coat. She bit her lip as she thought of Giacomo and in the next moment she gripped the front of Altro's tunic. He stared down at her hand, preventing him from moving off of her. In a state of shock as clear as his, she slid her other hand up his chest.

"It's not just…" she whispered.

"What, my lady?" He breathed, careful to remain still.

"That you have been punished for merely offering me a kindness," she answered.

He looked at his bandaged hand that rested by her head.

"I upset you. It was not kind. It was self indulgent," he argued.

"I was upset and uncertain at that moment. You have been so kind to me. There is a veil of falsehood over every action your masters take, but not you. I trust you, even if it's foolish. Perhaps I can make things right by accepting your kindness now? If your offer stands?" The question left her mouth and Altro's breath quickened. "Perhaps you would allow me to master you a little longer?"

He took her hand resting on his chest and brought it under his mask once more. She let him take her fingers into his mouth. A lithe tongue snaked around them slowly. He took care, but she faintly felt the tips of surprisingly sharp teeth.

"I want to see your face," she confessed as he stared down at her.

His eyes shifted away shamefully. He removed her fingers from between his lips.

"Papa forbids it. He prefers we not be seen," he explained.

"Then how do you plan to kiss me, Altro?" She smiled at him, imitating the wolfish expression that Marcelo often wore.

"In the dark," he replied and even with his mask, she knew that he was returning the expression. Her body gave an involuntary shiver, whether of anticipation or fear she was not certain.

Altro gathered her to his chest and lifted her from the floorboards. He laid her on the bed and then put out the lamp. He moved before the hearth and when he closed his fist, the fire immediately went out. Another shiver shot through her. It was one thing to know the inhabitants of the keep possessed arcane powers, and another to see it performed.

He turned and stalked toward her. With every movement her apprehension grew, but the muted sound of his keys clinking together with each step screwed her resolve.

He knelt beside her and let his fingers dance over the flame of the candle at her bedside table. She swore for a moment she saw a human figure flickering in the flame. When she looked at Altro his gaze was heavy with lust. He blew out the candle and the room went pitch dark.

She heard him moving and the sound of the keys hitting each other as his coat hit the floor. His mask scraped the wood when he set it on her bedside table. She attempted to peer through the darkness, but she could see nothing. When the other side of the bed shifted, she tried not to startle.

"Your heart is beating so swiftly, my lady," he observed and took her hand.

"I'm excited," she half-lied.

"And a little fearful too, I sense. Not as afraid as the first time you saw me, Mercedes," he said softly. She felt him press his lips to the palm of her hand. "When the townspeople confined you and I went to see the one they had chosen for my masters. You were sad, but composed. I heard your prayer and it moved me. I saw you and I knew true beauty for the first time. You saw me and screamed—"

"_ Demon _, I remember. I was terrified of you," she laughed.

His lips pressed into her hair and he inhaled.

"Terrified then and only a little fearful now. That's promising progress." His open hand rested on her stomach over her navel. It was extremely warm. He traced her ear with his nose and flicked his tongue up her neck just beneath her ear lobe. "Though I'll have you screaming once more in moments."

She swallowed and rubbed her thighs together.

He chuckled. "Eager. Let us continue what you started before I so rudely interrupted. Tell me, was tonight the first time?"

Mercedes nodded and she felt like an idiot.

"I can see you, vision in darkness is a gift from My Lord," he explained.

The hand on her stomach moved down and he cupped her. When her breathing steadied he pet her delicately through her chemise. Even that barest of touches sent pleasure through her. It was sinful to desire his touch, to allow his attentions, but as she considered the keys on the floor she realized that the greater sin would be to allow a priest to suffer in a Satanic prison.

He gathered up her chemise and brought it up and over her head. He cupped her again and slowly worked his hand back and forth. She sighed and closed her eyes.

"You are most beautiful," she heard him whisper. The next moment she felt his lips on her cheek just beside her mouth. "Might you grant a starving servant your kiss, my lady?"

She turned into his kiss and reached out for him. Her hands met bare skin. It was firm and smooth like stone.

The kiss deepened when his tongue flicked into her mouth. It swept along her own and when she pressed back she felt the sharp sting of his teeth. Two of the fingers rocking against her slid forward and began working the same place she had discovered earlier.

She broke their kiss to gasp and in the next instant his mouth was over the peak of her breast. He sucked lightly and beat his tongue against her. The fingers between her legs dipped back toward her entrance and coated themselves in her slickness.

Mercedes arched off of the bed and cried out his name. She placed a hand on his forearm, but did not try to stop him. Her other hand wove through his short crop of hair and pulled him close. His attention returned to her clit and he circled it in slow, calculated motions. Her hips pressed up toward his fingers, wanting something more.

"Please…" she begged.

"Tell me what you want of me," he groaned and left a series of kisses along her ribs.

"More, faster," she urged him.

He obeyed and she felt the bliss of the added friction as he pressed down and sped up his movements. Her skin felt flushed and her breath came in and out as forceful little bursts. The excitement was ever building until he stopped. He pulled away from her entirely and her heart sank.

"Altro…?"

"Relax, my lady," he instructed.

His hands wandered over her thighs and opened them as he explored her skin. She felt his lips at her inner thigh and then his tongue. A brief laugh escaped her lips.

"Shh, my lady. I take my duties very seriously," he chastised playfully.

When the heat of his mouth met her most delicate skin a cry of pleasure and surprise stuck in her throat. In her silence she could clearly hear soft growls rumbling from Altro. He sounded like a beast and she felt the reverberations as his tongue surged against her. 

The building sensation returned and climbed higher. The intense sounds from Altro in the dark had her hurtling faster toward the precipice. Her fingers curled into the furs beneath her and an unchecked moan escaped. It was followed shortly by another. His hands slid up her sides to grip her waist and hers flew to tangle in his hair. In another moment, she was sure she would break and she held onto him for dear life. A low, inhuman growl rolled out of Altro when he felt her grip.

Then a burst of pleasure crashed over her and she could barely make sense of her own lustful screams. Her fingers were grasping Altro’s hair and in a maddened state of bliss, she thought she felt small horns on his forehead. Pulses of warmth and pleasure beat outward from her core and she came down with short panting breaths.

Altro rested his head against the inside of her thigh as she gathered herself.

"Come to me," she called softly when her breathing evened. He crawled up and over her. She caressed him with her palms and again tried to stare through the darkness. "I long to see you. Even if for a moment."

Altro only chuckled. Her hands moved lower and she struggled with the belt holding up his breeches. His hand was pulling her wrist away before she realized what had happened.

"No, my lady," he said firmly.

"It's not what you want?" She asked sheepishly, suddenly reverting back from whatever lustful feelings had altered her.

"Your affections are not mine to accept. I would not allow you to sully yourself by touching me," he recited, clearly repeating an order he had been given.

"But you might touch me?" She wondered.

"Touch for your benefit, but I would never… interfere with you," he tried to explain. His collected manner seemed to be failing.

"Why is my maiden hood so important to them? If it's a virgin sacrifice why are they so bent on securing my affections? Would you let that happen to me?" She questioned harshly.

She felt his forehead against her own.

"They do not intend to sacrifice you. If that were the case, I would not allow it. I swear it on the forbidden kiss you granted me moments ago—the one I stole from the Emeritus brothers." His voice was soft and she calmed.

"Kisses are forbidden, but not… that?" She gestured downward.

"On pain of death," he answered.

"I wouldn't have kissed you if I had known."

She felt his breath over her mouth and his lips brushed over hers. "I wanted a taste of your tenderness for myself, and I'll not regret my indiscretion."

"Did you steal kisses from Vittoria and Maria as well?" Mercedes asked faintly.

"No," he replied coolly and moved away. "I had no desire for them. Vittoria was dull and Maria was only a child. You have no such faults. None that I might find."

Mercedes blushed anew, but pushed Altro further. "Where are they? Marcelo tells a lie easily, but you faltered when I asked about their whereabouts. They were not married to gracious husbands, were they?"

"I am forbidden to speak against my masters," he answered pointedly.

"They're dead," she breathed and waited for some response in the dark. She knew the answer, but prayed he would tell her the truth.

He hefted a deep sigh and repeated pitifully, "I am forbidden to speak against my masters."

Her trembling voice continued, "Is my life in danger?"

"You are their most treasured prize and my masters will do everything in their power to keep you safe and alive. Do you believe me?" Altro demanded.

"Yes, Altro. I believe you, even if I don't understand you."

"I wanted to please you, but I've upset you again, I'll go," he muttered and made to move off of her.

She clutched him desperately in the darkness.

"I'm not upset, I only want to have some grasp on my fate." She was able to rise up and place a rogue kiss on his chest. "You are my only friend here, please don’t leave me."

Mercedes heard another sigh and felt Altro pulling her chemise back over her head. She complied and reached for his mask. He took it from her and secured it over his face. In the next moment the single candle at Mercedes’ bedside table came to life. Altro was still above her, but he reached for his black tunic resting on the side of the bed.

“Rest. I’ll make a meal for your brothers,” she told him.

In the candlelight she could see his eyes clearly and they seemed to be full of words left unsaid. He rolled onto his side and propped his head up on his elbow. Mercedes padded out of the bed and shook out her chemise. From the corner of her eye she saw Altro raise his hand and the fire in the hearth was suddenly crackling again. She turned back to him and saw his pale chest glowing in the firelight.

“You’re a comely sight, my friend,” Mercedes admitted as she took to cubing the chicken for Altro and his brother’s dinner.

“No human has ever shown me the kindness that I’ve received from you,” she heard him say softly.

She continued preparing the meal as he watched her. _ Please fall asleep, _ she hoped. _ Turn on your other side. _Each time she turned back to him, he regarded her with a lethargic gaze. When the meal had finished cooking in the pot, she pulled it from the fire and rested it on the cool stones at the front of the hearth.

She approached the bed and knelt down beside Altro’s coat. One of her hands caressed his chest while the other crept into the folds of his coat.

“You can sleep here, if you like,” she cooed. “You’re tired.” Her fingers brushed the set of keys through fabric and she dug deeper.

He shook his head and pushed himself up on his elbows. Mercedes withdrew her hand and let it rest behind her back.

“My brothers will come to look for me if I do not return soon.” He rolled to his feet and pulled on his tunic. Then he reached for his coat and folded it over his arm.

Mercedes’ heart sank as she missed her opportunity. She stood before him and gave him a pleading look. “Will you return tomorrow night?”

He nodded. “If you require me, my lady.” He moved around her and grabbed the still steaming pot from the hearth. “My brothers will be grateful for this.” Altro opened the chamber door and glanced back. “You won’t tell my masters about the kiss, will you?” He wondered.

“I wouldn’t dare. It’s our secret and ours alone,” she replied honestly.

“Until tomorrow,” he bid farewell and secured the door behind him.

Mercedes imagined the keys swaying against his arm as he retreated to his quarters. With a renewed vigor she looked at her reflection in the looking glass and declared, “Tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. Also, a dear reader asked that it be made clear the main character is not underage.


	9. Before the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A disastrous lesson is cut short. Mercedes discovers a light at the end of the tunnel before finding out more about Altro than she was prepared to learn. NSFW - Explicit sexual situations.

_Orvieto, Umbria, Italy - October, 1348_

Mercedes awoke with a start as the bedclothes were torn back from her slumbering form. She sat upright at once and looked for the culprit.

"Altro, what are you–" when she took a closer look at the man standing beside her bed she realized it was not Altro, but one of his brothers.

She made a haphazard move to crawl backward and put the bed between the two of them. He tilted his head at her and she heard chitters and growls come from beneath his mask.

"Where is Altro, why does he not attend me?" she questioned, knowing it would be rather difficult for him to tell her. A fear that Altro's actions the night before had been discovered flashed through her thoughts. _ Have I doomed him to more punishments? _

His brother pointed toward the window casement. Mercedes turned to look in the direction he was pointing.

"He's in Orvieto?" She guessed.

Altro's brother nodded and rubbed his fingers against his thumb and placed it against the palm of his other hand.

"At the market."

Altro's brother nodded again with enthusiasm. He made a motion of drinking and swayed his hips back and forth in a dance.

"For the upcoming celebration?" She supposed.

He nodded a final time and gestured for her to come to him as he bundled her kirtle to pull it over her head. It was new to her eyes, a thickly striped goldenrod and black damask. The overdress was a black and bronze brocade with a collar of sable fur. Altro's brother seemed to have forgotten stockings, but as she did not mind, she made no mention of it.

When he sat her before the looking glass, he did not appear to share the skills with coiffure that his brother possessed. He accidentally jabbed himself with a pin and an intense crackle ripped from his throat. The next instant he threw it to the ground and stamped on it.

Mercedes put up a hand to stop him. She wove her hair into two plaits and secured them at the nape of her neck with a cord and two pins.

Altro's brother placed a hand on his cocked hip. He tossed his other hand up in the air in exasperation.

"Was it you who gave me drawing lessons?" She asked sheepishly. Though the mask concealed him, she was almost certain he was.

He nodded and appraised his fingernails.

"Thank you, I've never drawn before. You are quite a wonderful artist… If my compliments bear any merit," she demurred to him.

He gave a small, exaggerated bow that was cut short with Emeritus II's entrance. 

Even at first appearance Mercedes noticed his demeanor was much improved from the previous day. He inclined his head to her and dismissed Altro's brother with an elegant wave of his arm.

"Fair morning, dear Mercedes," he greeted her.

"I am pleased to see you looking well, Papa," she responded and stood from her seat.

"I hope you did not lament Altro's absence too gravely this morning. He is the only useful servant who can accomplish our bidding in the city. His replacement satisfied, I trust?" Emeritus II asked the question as he gazed at the unmade bed at the center of the chamber.

"Yes, he did. If the mess distresses you, I shall tidy the bedclothes now, Divine Grace," she offered, not wanting to see a bandage on Altro's brother's hand the next time they met.

"A lady does not tidy her own bedclothes," he chided and stepped closer to her.

"I am no lady–" she attempted to counter.

A surprisingly gentle hand brushed her cheek.

"You are the lady of this keep. Labor is beneath you. Your pursuits are now only those which bring you pleasure," his words were soft but deliberate. The intensity of his gaze had her shrinking inside of herself. His very presence shrouded her in a veil of submission. Though his words would please any who heard them, his tone indicated that he held power over what she would and would not enjoy.

His power made her feel small and he could wield it with a look or the way he held his shoulders. Even in seemingly high spirits it emanated from his being like some dark radiance.

"Would it please you to begin our second lesson?" He prodded and slowly brought his gloved hands together.

Mercedes forced a smile. "Yes, Papa. Will you review my practice pages from yesterday?"

They gathered on the bench and Emeritus II poured over her progress. He admonished her few mistakes and instructed her to correct them immediately. When all proved correct he praised her and stroked a finger beneath her chin.

His momentary kindness transformed into the austerity that was his namesake. The more she understood the more proud of himself Emeritus II became. They continued their lesson in much the same fashion as the day prior. When it concluded Emeritus II informed her that he would seek her out to spend time near the garden once her drawing lessons ended.

* * *

Enough time passed that Mercedes found herself strumming a lovely tune on her gittern. Her senses were distracted enough that she could envision herself in her own bedroom. The night before with Altro also danced intermittently through her thoughts. She had never felt any sensations similar to what she had experienced at his hands. A blush covered her cheeks and chest as her strumming stuttered.

A soft knock came at the door and a silver mask peaked inside before entering.

"Altro? Are you back so soon?" She called from near the hearth.

"My lady, I am to escort you to master Marcelo for your lesson. I was hardly inside the keep before he instructed me to fetch you," he explained quickly.

Mercedes settled her gittern on the chair and hurried to take Altro's arm.

"Are the people well… healthy?" She began as they moved through the halls.

"Not a trace of pestilence to be found, my lady," he replied. "The city fairs well, I assure you."

"Perhaps the next time you go out, you might look in on my family? If your masters allow it, of course…" she amended. After their most recent encounter she prayed it was not too presumptuous to ask for this favor.

She suddenly found herself spirited into an alcove just inside the Emeritus' brothers wing. Altro was pressed close to her and he leaned down to whisper in her ear.

"I have a gift for you. I shall give it to you in your chambers and tell you more about my time in the city." His hand caressed from her shoulder downward until his fingers lightly brushed hers. "For now, drawing lessons."

He pulled her back into the hallway as effortlessly as he had pulled her out of it.

When they reached Marcelo's chambers, Altro announced her and joined one of his brothers at the side of the room.

"Why Mercedes, come inside and have a seat," Marcelo beckoned her.

He wore a shimmering purple tunic that seemed like an article a Turk would wear. It hung to his ankles and was embroidered with exquisite golden thread. His feet were bare. He stood beside a pair of stools and patted the one meant for Mercedes. She alighted upon it and looked to him expectantly.

"This gown, it suits you?" He wondered, examining it shrewdly.

Mercedes glanced down at herself. "It is very fine," she answered, not sure why he would ask.

"It is very severe, something Dario would choose, surely. Too dour for the bright creature before me." He drew the skirt of the overdress between his fingers. "Stiff and course, does he know you at all?" He asked softly and took her hand. His lips slid over her knuckles. "I would dress you in gowns of silken petals and flaxen feathers."

His teeth sunk into his plump bottom lip and she steeled herself to resist his power. No surge of longing for the beautiful man came and he settled onto the stool beside her.

"I overwhelmed you yesterday, and for that I apologize. Of course this shan't shock you, but I am accustomed to obtaining my desires quite quickly. Though it is true that when the weather warrants it, I forego clothing." He put up his hands when her eyes widened. "However, you are a guest, and if it discomforts you, I shall refrain, even when the spring comes round again."

The thought of still being there until the spring made her shudder. She nodded, and offered a short, "Thank you."

"Perhaps Altro was right yesterday. I think flowers shall make a much better place to begin your lessons," he grinned and it was a delighted, mischievous expression.

Marcelo motioned to one of Altro's brothers who had been standing near a curtain hanging at the center of the room. This brother was larger than Altro or his artistic brother. He pulled at a chord and drew the curtains back to display a magnificent arrangement of dark flowers. There were hundreds of them and their scents filtered toward them. The scents were intoxicating… and familiar. In dozens of vases and hanging planters Mercedes noticed with a jolting of her stomach that they were from Emeritus II's garden. They were all of Emeritus II's garden.

"What have you done?" She gasped, terrified by the fact that Emeritus II would discover this mischief before long. Her eyes shot toward Altro, but he remained unmoving.

"I know how you adore them, and I've brought them to you," he smiled rakishly.

Mercedes bolted toward the arrangements and struggled to think of a way to fix his mistake. They were all cut at the stems.

"He'll murder you!" She called back at Marcelo in a panic.

The handsome man cackled and approached her. "He can grow them again. If the sight of them brought you happiness, as it should to any gracious lady, he could not be cross with me. You embedded yourself too far into his affections for him to deny you very much."

Mercedes set her teeth hard and stared at him. "I'm not so artful to have done any such thing, Master Marcelo," she replied with indignation. She turned her back on him and ran her hand over a bouquet's shorn stems.

"I have gifts that Our Lord granted me, but yours are self-made. You bait my brother with rustic manners and soft words. _ Read to me, Divine Grace_," he mocked. "You ingratiate yourself to him and he licks it up like a hound. He may even be starting to believe your feelings are romantically inclined. Your deceptions are clear to me, one who has practiced such artifice time and again."

Mercedes looked to Altro's large brother who, like Altro, had not moved before replying.

"Are you so sure I have no romantic designs on him?" She asked and turned back to him, arching her eyebrow. "He is a man of great power and wealth. I confess his presence is like a wave, sweeping me away before it. He commands obedience and reverence. He is an older man, but does experience in life count for nothing?"

Marcelo smiled knowingly, his eyes narrowing like a large cat. "You do not desire him."

"No?"

He shook his head and a lock of jet hair fell over his eye. She swallowed.

"Even if you respect him… you desire another," he reasoned and moved closer.

Her eyes returned to Altro for an instant, a spike of fear piercing her chest. She stepped backwards and felt her calf strike a wooden frame. Marcelo's bed was covered in Emeritus II's flowers. 

"My brother longs for the status that you may bring him in Our Lord's eyes. You are a means to more power for him. Though I–" Marcelo came as close as he could without touching her. "– I desire only you. In quietude, my thoughts revisit the moment I first claimed these immaculate lips for myself. How well your unsullied skin took to mine. Each touch filled with more eagerness."

Mercedes' gaze flickered between Marcelo and Altro behind him. Marcelo turned and waved his arm.

"You may leave us, servants," he announced flippantly. He resumed his former position but did not notice that while his brothers obliged, Altro stood firm. "No more prying eyes."

Mercedes inclined her head toward Altro and Marcelo scrutinized him.

"I ordered you to leave," Marcelo hissed.

"Master Marcelo, I believe it is wise that I remain at your side. His Divine Grace's ire may be drawn by your recent… horticultural endeavor. I may be able to intercede on your behalf should he be wrathful," Altro reasoned readily. Mercedes noticed that he clenched his fists until the knuckles grew white.

Marcelo raised his brow. "That will be most appreciated, thank you… Altro." When Marcelo's attention fell upon Mercedes, he wore an adoring smile. She surveyed the contours of his face and the creases about his eyes. His visage was altogether breathtaking, and yet she found her sympathies returning to a man whose face she had never seen.

Mistaking her sudden pensive smile for enticement, Marcelo cradled the back of her neck and swiftly kissed her lips as they opened in surprise. He sighed in satisfaction and reached for her hand which he then held over his heart.

"Little dove, lie back with me awhile…" he leaned into her and they folded slowly onto the flowers and bedclothes. His fingers traced her jaw and then her collarbone. A wordless song left his lips.

"What about our lesson?" She interrupted him.

He propped his head up on his hand before answering, "Your lesson for today is the meaning of pretense." He dotted her nose with a finger.

As he pulled his hand back a thunderous clattering erupted from the hallway outside. Marcelo bolted up to his feet, a foreign expression of panic spread over his face. The heavy footfalls and furious pace could be none other than Emeritus II. His younger brother seemed to scan the room for an exit, but found none. Mercedes had seen the same entrapped countenance on her own brothers dozens of times. He had been caught doing something he ought not to have done.

When Emeritus II crossed the threshold, Marcelo cowered. His elder brother was silent, but fixed Marcelo with a glare roiling with fury. Emeritus II approached him with ominous purpose and shame emanated for Marcelo. Emeritus II spared a moment to take in his ruined garden and shook his head mournfully. After staring down at Marcelo for what seemed like an eternity, Emeritus II finally spoke.

"Since you are determined to conduct yourself in the manner of a petulant child, I shall bestow a punishment befitting such actions," Emeritus II glowered at his brother.

"Punishment…?" Marcelo managed, his eyes wide and pleading. Altogether, he took on a quite childlike countenance.

Emeritus II turned to acknowledge Mercedes. "I shall confiscate your playthings and withhold them until you prove yourself more than a sulking ass." Emeritus II motioned to her. "Come, my lady. Your drawing lessons are postponed indefinitely, join me in my study for tea."

She gave a last glance to a mortified, but resigned Marcelo and followed Emeritus II from the room. He was silent, but some of the wrath had dissipated from his aura. A few rooms to the right found them in Emeritus II's study. It was filled with books, pamphlets and other writings. On a particular shelf, she saw a set of leather bound books identical to Emeritus II's ledger. She wondered at all of the words and rituals they might contain. One wall was plastered with maps and architectural drawings, some apparently drawn by Marcelo. A small round table sat at the center of the room and tea had already been laid.

"Please, sit," Emeritus II bid as he closed the door. She sat and he joined her. A defeated sigh escaped him and he closed his eyes before pouring out the tea.

"I had a brass coin from the Roman Empire that my father found by the Tiber and gave to me for luck," Mercedes began and waited for Emeritus II's reaction before she continued. His brow raised in interest, so she went on, "I always took it with me and I coveted it more than I should have. It didn't occur to me that it drove my brother Giac mad with jealousy that it was mine and not his. So one day I left it in my room and by the time I realized it, do you know what my foolish brother had done?"

A small smirk curled the side of Emeritus II's mouth. "Tell me."

"The idiot boy ate it, so that no one could take it away from him. He was so overcome with envy that he lashed out in the most ridiculous way he knew. In the end, by spiting me he only hurt himself when the coin eventually came out. By then, neither of us wanted it," she laughed.

Emeritus II grinned. "Am I to take it that you are the coin in the current situation?"

"No." Mercedes shook her head. "I only mean to suggest that Master Marcelo was overcome by some strong feelings to have made such a mistake. That perhaps it was sudden, and petulant as you have already said, but not entirely malicious in intent." Emeritus II looked to his folded hands and considered her words. "Divine grace, you are a paragon of what he aspires to. A man of power and he is ever second to you. And after yesterday, he once again felt defeated by you," she explained.

His eyes flashed upward. "Defeated? In what way?"

Mercedes chose her next words with excessive care, "He believed I was showing preference for you. He has made his intentions clear to me and he fears that my affections do not fall on him." She took a sip of her tea. "Perhaps you might tell him you have no designs on me and it would set him at ease?"

The cup in Emeritus II's hands swirled lightly as he seemed deep in thought.

"I would not lie to my brother," he finally said.

Following a sharp knock, Altro entered.

"Divine Grace, your first guest is approaching the fortress now. Forgive my interruption, but you requested that I inform you immediately," Altro recalled and awaited further instruction.

A thoughtful hum escaped Emeritus II before he instructed Altro, "Alert my brother and tell him I require his presence to welcome our guest. He should be on his best behavior." Emeritus II stood and bowed to Mercedes. "I must leave you to prepare to receive our guest. I regret that you must sup in your chamber tonight, but I would not present you to anyone before my father arrives. Please finish your tea, my dear."

She was suddenly left alone in the strange room as they exited. Her eyes wandered over the many symbols and occult talismans that were arranged on an altar beneath the maps. Cradling her teacup, she moved to inspect the altar more closely. She could discern very little and was too afraid to touch any of the objects before her. 

Above the altar, she examined a map of the fortress. There was the outer wall, the gatehouse, the inner wall and the keep. The tree where Emeritus II read to her was even depicted. And there was a tunnel. It extended from within the keep to beyond the southernmost outer wall.

Her breath caught in her chest and she traced it with her finger. Hope flooded her so quickly she fought to hold in a sob. She flung her teacup back onto the table, spilling the contents. Without a backward glance she tore from the room.

As swift as her legs could carry her she approached Giacomo's cell. Abandoning caution she gave the door a single pounding with the heel of her hand.

"Giacomo, we're leaving tonight. I'll come for you and we'll escape this wretched place," she softly announced.

After a shuffle, she heard his voice clearly from the gap at the bottom of the door. "Are you certain? How?"

"I haven't much time, but I wanted to prepare you. I'll return to free you," she assured him and took a few steps toward her chamber.

"Wait!" Giacomo called desperately as his fist collided with the door.

She stopped and returned to him.

"There is something I must tell you. To conceal it further would be dishonest. My appearance may… unsettle you," he admitted.

"Giacomo, you're a prisoner, I won't judge you for how you've been treated against your will," Mercedes comforted him.

"No, no. I… I was _dying_," he cried with stilted speech, unsure where to begin. "The pestilence had overrun my abbey. I bore witness to the deaths of dozens of my clergy-brothers. They were snatched from this world in such agony and I saw again and again what the future held for me. When it manifested within me, I prayed day and night, countless–_sleepless_ hours! Just to be spared."

He heaved an exhausted sigh that ended as a sob.

"I was so afraid to die… my brothers had accepted their calls to Our Lord's holy embrace, but I was full of fear and uncertainty. When my prayers were answered with the return of my health, I praised Christ for his miracle." Here Giacomo paused and a grating low chuckle escaped him.

"How I was deceived. My doubt had invited in the most infernal Lord below, and it was he who offered respite that I unknowingly accepted on my deathbed. Satan himself appeared to me as I offered my gratitude and service to Christ. He taunted my naïveté and declared that I was in his service for eternity in exchange for his gift of life. Even when I fled, the Emeritus brothers arrived soon after to take me prisoner. We share a symbol of servitude that only those who have been in the presence of Satan bear," he ended. His breathing was heavy, his voice hoarse from overuse after such long periods of silence.

"What symbol?" She whispered, hair standing at the nape of her neck.

"A pale eye, through which Satan sees all. It was how the Emeritus brothers found me. If we escape–"

"We'll cover it, and keep him blind to you," Mercedes cut in. "We will find a way, but I need to go before I'm discovered. Try to save your strength for tonight."

"As you wish," he responded in a small voice before she returned to her chamber.

* * *

In solitude Mercedes contemplated her escape from the fortress. _ The tunnel must be in the lowest dungeon, any other floor would not be deep enough, _ she thought. _ Altro will come and I shall have the keys from him. _

An ache rang out in her chest._ I cannot remain here against my will, _ she reasoned to herself. _ We need to escape, no matter my soft feelings for a man in a mask. _ His light eyes shining over his mask played through her mind. _ Don't be weak, it's what they want from you. _

Mercedes dressed down to her chemise and bided her time until Altro arrived with dinner. When he did arrive it was with chicken and potatoes, the meal she had first served him. She admitted silently that it reminded her of the simplicity of home.

"I had no notion of what Master Marcelo had done to Papa's garden; I would have warned you," Altro told Mercedes as she ate.

She nodded and placed a hand over his. He enclosed her's with both of his own and held it in his lap. Upon seeing the smile in his eyes, she offered him a morsel that he readily accepted.

"You had news of Orvieto?" She enquired as she finished and set her platter on the table by the door.

Altro nodded. "I completed all that Papa required of me and had time for a few… personal errands." The last statement seemed foreign to him, yet he went on, "Forgive me, but last night… in the dark… I… I… cut a lock of hair that I suspected you would not miss."

Mercedes leaned away from him and placed guarded hands over her hair.

"Not for myself, you shall see. I visited your family's home and met with a young boy playing an age worn gittern outside," Altro hurriedly added.

Matteo's face flashed in her mind and she both smiled and ached at the thought of him.

"I asked him where he learned and he told me that he had always watched his sister…" Altro trailed a hand over her upper arm and rested his cold, metallic forehead upon Mercedes'. "I told him that I am a servant here, that I knew you and I showed him the lock of hair that I stole from you. He gave me his own lock readily. You see…" Altro reached into his breast pocket to produce a small charm of woven hair in the shape of a heart.

"I had seen a merchant selling trinkets of woven hair weeks ago, and I thought of them while I was looking at you last night." Altro pressed it into her hands and she distinctly saw her own hair plaited and twisted with the lighter hair of Matteo.

Before she could utter a response, tears stole down her cheeks at the magnanimity and thoughtfulness of his gift. Her arms stole about his waist and she burrowed into his neck.

"You are my one true friend…" she sighed against the sensitive skin at his jaw where his mask ended. A few moments filled with gentle caresses and innocent embraces passed before Mercedes recalled her goal for the night. "I believe I am ready for my bath, Altro," she breathed heavily at his ear. He disentangled himself and dashed out only to return with casks of heated water for the basin.

Mercedes removed her chemise and sat at the side of the basin until it was full. With each new cask, Altro’s gaze drew carefully over her bare body. When the bath was ready and steaming, she looked to Altro.

"May I?" She wondered and he nodded fervently. 

As Mercedes sunk into the basin, she sighed at the involuntary release of tension. A single moment passed in which her cares entirely disappeared. She reached back for Altro's hands, then determined not to let go of him until it was necessary. He obliged her, massaging and stroking every plane of her exposed skin. Her eyes closed at the pleasure of it.

“Do I please you?” He wondered from beside her head.

“Heavens, yes…” she nearly moaned.

Altro laughed heartily before recovering and running his hands down over Mercedes’ ribs.

“Shall I do more to please you?” He asked as his hands settled over her lower stomach.

Delight and intoxication ignited within her, yet Mercedes clasped his hands and pulled them away. She twisted to see his doubtful eyes before flashing him a reassuring smile. Standing in the basin, she placed her hand on Altro's shoulder as she climbed from the water. Her foot came to rest on the right side of his folded legs and the other quickly followed on the left side. She held his gaze as she slowly lowered to her knees and eventually settled on his lap. Her damp skin soaked every part of his clothing it touched.

He swallowed hard and his hands hovered near her waist.

She gathered her hair and wrung out the water over his tunic.

"My lady, what are you doing?" He breathed, tension present in his speech and body.

"Your clothes are wet, Altro. You should dry them by the fire." She placed a kiss on his mask where she assumed his mouth to be. 

He swallowed again and asked, "Would that please you?"

She nodded and slid her hands inside his coat. The keys were in her hand the next second and her heart jumped. She pulled them free and held up the set.

"Which one is for my chamber?" She wondered with a sly grin. "We should lock the door. I don't want to get you in any trouble."

He snatched at them and she ground against him. One of his hands clutched her hand that held the keys and the other wrapped around to hoist her roughly against him by her bottom.

"I'm not asking you to do anything that would ruin your master's plans, but I want to touch you. Don't you deserve to be touched?" She whispered in his ear and slipped her hand under his tunic. It rested on his belt, but he did not wrench it away.

"It's forbidden…" he huffed unconvincingly.

"Would your Lord ask you to deny your desires?" She reasoned.

He shook his head and surveyed her body with unguarded and lustful eyes.

"Tell me what _ you _ want, Altro?" She cried softly and pressed into him.

"I want you… and I want you to touch me," he admitted and his hand massaged her bottom.

She pulled her hand free of the keys and pressed them against his chest.

"Then go lock the door." 

He shuffled away and rose to his feet immediately. After locking the door, he placed the keys on a chest of drawers and began peeling off his dripping clothes. They fell haphazardly near the keys.

Mercedes gathered a few furs from the bed and arranged them before the fire.

When Altro returned to her side, he was clutching his belt-less breeches to cover himself.

"You like the fire, don't you? Does it comfort you?" She asked, gesturing to the hearth.

"It reminds me of home," he replied.

She patted the fur beside her. As he sat she kissed his bare shoulder. Altro cupped her cheek and drew a thumb over her lips. Mercedes leaned into him and nestled against his throat. He sighed while grasping her tightly to his chest. Her skin was still damp from her bath and their bodies pressed and slid together, desperate for each other's touch.

Her fingertips traced the pointed chin of his mask.

"Take it off," she whispered against his skin.

His body stiffened.

"I don't want to frighten you. I'm not like most men."

"I've noticed and I'm glad of it. You feel for me. When I was overwhelmed you comforted me. What you did for my brother and me is the greatest kindness I've ever been given." She kissed his mask. "I believe you are a good man and you shouldn't need to be hidden away at your master's orders."

His eyes clamped shut and he heaved a sigh.

"Mercedes, I am not a good man. I am not a man at all," he confessed.

Mercedes gave him a confused expression and glanced at the loose breeches in his lap.

"Did they… hurt you?" She managed to ask, horrified.

He laughed and the flames in the fireplace flickered side to side in swift wispy licks.

"No. I'm... intact. This mask does more than conceal my face. It's a gift from my father. To protect my brothers and me," he explained, clearly telling her more than his masters would have liked.

She stroked his chest tenderly. "Protect you from what?"

He gripped the mask and lifted it reluctantly from his head. "From humanity."

Beneath the mask Altro's face was entirely unremarkable. He was not unhandsome, but he did not have the beauty of someone like Marcelo Emeritus. She was a moment away from chastising him for having her believing his nose was missing when she noticed a strange shift. When he turned his head to stare at her not all of his face moved in sync with his head.

Her mouth fell open and she reached out to hold his cheek. What she saw and what she felt were at odds with one another. The only part of his face that seemed not to suffer from the strange shifting delay was his eyes.

"The mask is bewitched?" She reasoned in a desperate attempt to understand.

"Yes, by my father. And when I remove my hand from it, the image that he's conjured will disappear. I will change into something that isn't human; you will see what I truly am." At his words, Mercedes felt dread churn her stomach and she considered making a dash for the keys.

_ Not yet, _ she chided herself and took a deep breath. _ He deserves your understanding. _

Altro set the mask on the stones of the hearth and hesitated before pulling his hand away. The pale skin covering his body began to peel away and scintillate into darkness. The faux-face peeled back to reveal sharp, not entirely humanoid features the color of burnt embers. Horns jutted out from his forehead. The tips of his ears came to long points. His brow, cheekbones and chin were so angular it made Mercedes realize the mask wasn't far off from what truly rested beneath.

The hand she held to his chest almost seemed to glow in contrast to his slate dark skin.

"This is what I am," he stated and gestured to the new form she saw before her. Even his voice had taken on a darker tone. His fingers had turned sharp and each sported an additional digit. She spied the fangs and jagged teeth in his mouth when he spoke. His pale eyes remained unaltered.

She held in any exclamation of shock. Her teeth clenched together, too afraid to cry out in fear or unleash a rapid prayer. Her only savior was a creature from the Pit.

The fire burned low as he waited for her reaction.

"You knew what I was the moment you laid eyes on me," he mused and cast his eyes downward. "I was halfway back to the keep before I realized it was your fear and not some keen clairvoyance that had caused you to cry out _ Demon. _"

As she continued to study him, she registered an unmistakable form of supernatural beauty. Some powerful aura hummed at the surface of his skin. Her flesh prickled at the novel sensation.

"Your masters fear your power and envy your beauty, don't they?" She finally asked.

His brow creased in confusion.

"What other reason could there be for them to secret away such a form?" Her nerves had calmed and she kissed his lips softly. "A form created by your unholy father."

Altro's eyes flashed wide at her mention of Satan, but she only kissed him again. He pulled her closer until she was straddling his thighs. His arms circled her back and he responded to her kiss hungrily. Not only did she feel, but saw his serpentine tongue as it slid back into his mouth.

"You're not afraid?" He asked in surprise as he caressed her shoulder blades.

"Will you hurt me? Condemn me?" She returned.

The fearsome creature before her shook his head.

"Then nothing more than your visage has changed, and I am not afraid of my dear friend," she answered. The fire flared in the hearth.

His hands captured her cheeks and he kissed her passionately. Mercedes explored his chest and reached for his breeches. Together they tugged them out of the way. Following a brief moment of hesitation, Mercedes brushed her fingers over him.

"I don't know what to do," she admitted, a blush spreading on her cheeks.

"My Mercedes, nothing you could do would be wrong," he assured her. His breath had quickened in anticipation. 

She held his gaze and took him in her hand. Altro's skin was fevered and smooth beneath her fingers. His fangs sunk into his bottom lip as her hand slid over his length. He exhaled and closed his eyes. Encouraged by his response she moved her hand faster. He bared his teeth and a low growl rolled out of his throat.

A thin black cord wound itself around Mercedes' wrist and she startled.

Altro's eyes opened and he saw the reason for her surprise.

"It has a mind of its own when I'm in a passion," he explained and slowly unwrapped the appendage from her forearm. A meter long tail came to rest beside them and then slithered back behind Altro. Mercedes gripped his shoulders and glanced behind his back to see it more clearly. It was thicker at the base where it extended from his spine and flicked side to side.

"I don't mind," she told him and directed her attention to her prior task with a renewed vigor.

His head dropped forward upon her shoulder and his soft growls grew more intense. The tips of his fingers dragged over her hips and lower back, sending tremors of pleasure through Mercedes. He turned his face into her neck and the heat from his breath had her bucking up his thighs.

"You are the greatest joy I've ever known…" he mouthed against her skin.

Mercedes' heart twisted at his words. How quickly would his mind change when he discovered her deception? She attempted to renew her resolve with a shake of her head, then spit in her hand to coat him.

Altro gave an obscene grunt. The sounds he made fueled her desire. Their deep and primal tones vibrated directly to her core.

"Kiss me, please. Kiss me. I don't want this to end," she whispered desperately. He obliged her while sliding a hand between their bodies to caress her neglected skin. "Can this moment go on forever? Away from everyone else in this fortress and those cowards outside it?"

"If I could halt time, I would," he breathed before pressing his lips to hers. He was tender and his fingers cradled the base of her neck. "I wish I could hide you away in the most secret part of myself," he confessed and stifled a moan.

She realized at his words that retrieving the keys to the fortress had not been the sole reason for the position she found herself in. Man or beast, she had opened her heart to him and felt more than fondness in return. The initial fear of his true appearance had disappeared entirely. He, much like herself, had no hand in his creation and could not choose his father anymore than she.

Mercedes drew her hand back and moved her hips to smooth her core over his hardened member. His movements faltered as she writhed against him; her sex stifling next to his.

"You could have me," she panted into his ear. "All of me. Tell me that you want it too."

Altro surged toward her and suddenly she was on her back beneath him. He stroked his length along her heat and growled. The fire in the hearth flared and shuddered.

"I long to rut into you like an animal. Claim you, ruin you for anyone else. How rosy would your creamy cheeks blush as I buried myself inside you?" His thumb swept across her bottom lip and pressed inside. “But I… I can’t… Papa would destroy me, force me back to the Pit and I would never see you again.”

She met his movements and caressed up his chest, her fingers continued upward until they found his horns. Euphoria spread on his face and he pushed into her hands.

“Then let me give you what I am able to,” she pleaded. One hand reached for him again and she worked her fist frantically along his length. "I've never wanted to before, never longed for it like I do now. With you, only with you."

He thrusted madly into her grip and leaned close to press his cheek to hers. Her senses were full of him as he penned her in with his elbows on each side of her head.

"Tell me what you desire," his voice rolled out as a low rumble.

"To feel you moving inside me. Becoming a part of me. Making a woman of me. Claiming me—"

An inhuman, hybrid sound of a growl and roar tore out of his throat and she felt his release spreading over her chest. He remained on his hands and knees above her for some time. His legs trembled against her inner thighs. She brushed her cheek repeatedly along his forearm. It was unclear if the calm and comfort Mercedes felt was due to the fire or Altro's supernatural warmth. 

When he finally moved it was to wet a cloth to run along her chest.

"Lie with me," she pleaded and peered up at him. 

He draped the wet cloth over the side of the basin and moved to lie on his side next to her. The black cord of his tail curled gently around her thigh. His chin buried into the crook of her shoulder. He hummed a strange song filled with the crackling and rumbles that she recalled his brother making.

_ I mustn't leave tonight, _ she thought. _ I can’t leave Altro. With more time, he would understand, he could even join Giacomo and me in freedom. _It wouldn't be quick, but it would be less dangerous.

Altro examined her concerned expression as she worked through her thoughts.

"Are you worried that they'll know?" He asked quietly. "My masters?"

Mercedes paused before telling him that was the reason for her concern.

"Are you confident they won't discover us?" She returned.

"They commune with my father at this time of night and their attention and powers are diverted elsewhere," he explained, placing a kiss on her collarbone.

"And your brothers? Forgive me, but might they… notice your scent on me?" The previous night he had immediately noted her arousal and she feared his brother's had similarly heightened senses. Though she regretted likening him to a hound.

He gave a short burst of laughter. "I'll tell them I've done something depraved with your bathwater, they'll be amused."

Mercedes nosed crinkled. "You wouldn't dare, would you?"

Again he laughed. "That is not my preferred method of self gratification. Though it does seem like something–" a soft growl and throaty crackle emitted quickly between his next words "–would engage in."

"That's one of your brothers? That sound you made, that's his name?" She wondered, realizing that he and his brother's names could not be pronounced correctly by humans. He had tried to explain that to her before.

"Yes–" he repeated the sound.

"Does it have a meaning in Italian?" 

"It means _ Well of Fire _," he translated.

"And your name... your real name, can I hear it?" She asked.

His lips pressed to her ear and another bestial sound escaped him. It was markedly different from the sound of his brother's name.

"What does it mean?" She whimpered as his lips slid over her throat.

"_ Forged by the Father _ , or simply _ Son _," he replied, continuing to worship the sensitive skin below her jaw.

"And your father is… Satan below?" She hesitated to ask.

His elongated fingers laced with hers.

"If that is how you know Him, then… yes. I understand what your church has led you to believe about Him, but He is not evil. He is willful and encourages willfulness and individuality in others. He means you no harm, despite any misgivings you may have." She heard him swallow hard. "I lied to you before–not when you asked if you were to be sacrificed, that was true. You are safe. However… another captive is imprisoned here. A Catholic priest, and…"

Mercedes turned to face him. "Tell me."

"His fate will not be so fortunate."

Her stomach dropped as his words settled. Giacomo would be the sacrifice in their terrible ritual. 

"You wouldn't let Papa hurt him…" she hoped aloud.

"It is not my place to thwart my master's plans."

"And yet you steal all the kisses and affection you like from me? Your master's prize. You feel for humanity, I've seen it. You could save him, this priest," she pleaded.

"I have no love for false prophets who would pervert my father's name and intend to cast him as a villain for all mankind," he retorted swiftly, anger flashing in his features.

At his admission, she chanced to hope that Altro was more likely to assist in an escape. His feelings toward priests poisoned the thought. Giacomo was marked for death and it dawned on her that she would be gambling with his life if she waited for Altro to alter his disposition. However much she longed to remain in the tender moment with Altro, she resigned herself to the necessity of enacting the escape that night.

He witnessed her concern melting into sadness, and ran a comforting hand down her arm.

“I empathize with humanity, but there is only one of its members that I would risk my existence on this plane for.” This made Mercedes blush, but it did not raise her spirits.

He kissed her gently and buried a hand in her damp hair. Each touch of his lips was an appeal to pull her from her melancholy. She tangled her limbs with his and returned his embraces.

"Halt time," she begged, "Halt it and just remain here with me by the fire."

Alto grinned. "I'll stay with you until morning, but when Papa comes, I must leave you."

She nodded and turned to settle her back against his chest. His heartbeat was strong enough to feel in her own bosom. She clutched his hand and brought it to her mouth, caressing his knuckles with her lips.

* * *

Time passed agonizingly until she was certain he had fallen asleep behind her. Mercedes slipped from his embrace and stared at the dark creature in slumber. He was perfect to her in that moment.

"I love you," she mouthed and rose to her feet. In silence she dressed and carefully retrieved the keys.

When she pulled open the door she glanced back at the sleeping demon inside. With a deep inhale she quietly closed the door and stalked resolutely to Giacomo's cell. 

_ Move forward, _ she urged herself, _ Put him out of your mind.. _

Holding the keys to her stomach, she muted their clinking against the fabric of her overdress. The key she remembered slid into her fingers and she worked it noiselessly into the lock. With a chattering turn to the right, it remained locked.

"Mercedes…" she heard a hushed voice from within.

She turned the key to the left and the latch finally came undone. 

A waft of putrid air, full of waste, body odor and stagnation struck her as she opened the door. She clenched her jaw to keep from gagging.

The man in the cell was grotesquely thin, his gaunt frame exposed by his lack of clothing. He wore only a sodden rag of fabric about his waist. His umber hair was wild and uneven and a mass of unkempt beard covered the lower half of his face. She had seen beggars who now seemed like lords at the sight of how Giacomo had been kept. The cell was freezing.

Sunken eyes gazed at her, one of them the very same pale orb that the Emeritus brothers shared. Tears cascaded down his face as he beheld her.

"I had begun to worry that I had invented you," his trembling voice admitted.


	10. Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mercedes and Giacomo enact their escape.

Mercedes closed the distance between them and wrapped her arm around Giacomo's quaking figure. The other held an unlit lamp. She fought through his reeking stench to comfort him.

"We need to go now," she whispered and began untying her overdress. She held it out to him and he pulled it over his shoulders. A sigh escaped him at the newfound warmth.

"God bless you, child," he decried. Tears left dampened tracks through the filth on his cheeks.

"We won't escape through the main entrance. I have seen the servants patrol the grounds at night. There is a tunnel below that should lead outside the fortress. We need only descend to the lower levels and find a door on the southern wall that opens to the tunnel." Giacomo closed his eyes and nodded as she relayed her plan.

"And the pestilence? Does it not worry you? All those people?" He wondered.

She looked him directly in his earthly eye. "What else will they ask when we are no longer enough? We'll only feed their infernal agenda if we remain. We are more than sacrifices; our lives are worth more than that." 

He seemed to smile at her fiery response and nodded firmly. Mercedes reached for his filthy hand and led him from the cell.

In the corridor, it became evident to Mercedes that moving with Giacomo in his weakened state would be difficult. She pulled his arm over her shoulder and half-carried him. The stairs were slow and precarious work, but they managed to descend to the very lowest cellar.

The way ahead was pitch dark, without moonlight to cut the blackness. With Giacomo propped against the wall, Mercedes struck a match and lit the lamp she had brought with.

The lamplight glinted off of several rows of metal bars on each side ahead.

"A dungeon," Giacomo groaned. "At least they were magnanimous enough to give me a cell of my own." A scoff imitating laughter escaped him.

Mercedes gathered him to her side and moved forward into the dungeon. Her fingers slotted between his protruding ribs. He was starved and weak. _What if he has to crawl?_ She asked herself. _What if he can't? What if I can't crawl with the lamp? Can we make it in the dark? _Lest panic should take over, she shook the uncertainties from her mind.

Their surroundings were damp, and unseasonably cold. The sounds of dripping, and the skittering of creatures were the only noise apart from their breath. The darkness seemed to swallow the lamplight, only emanating a meter around them. Unintimidated rodents scampered over their feet.

"The southern wall can't be much further," she assured Giacomo.

His breathing was dangerously heavy, but he nodded.

After a few more meters, his breathing became so loud that she considered stopping to give him a rest.  Until she realized it was not Giacomo's breathing that she heard.

"Giacomo, stay behind me," she instructed and rested him against the bars to their left, away from the sound she had heard.

A gust of wind that had no business in the cellar blew passed her. Mercedes moved toward the barred cell to her right. With her hand extended she waved it slowly back and forth.

"Is there a prisoner here?" She muttered, barely above a whisper. Her fear would not allow her to conjure a louder call.

There was no reply but the ragged breath she had previously heard. With caution she moved the lamp between the bars to better see whatever was trapped within. After catching a reflection of light on a pass she laboured to catch it again. A glint of some wet thing came into view and as she strained to see better her own breathing stopped.

Two corpses rested within. One propped against the wall and the other laid sprawled in the center. The corpse at the center was nearly cleaved in twain, and whatever flesh and organs inside had been thoroughly harvested. The other stared sightlessly toward the ceiling, his body bearing a fraction of the abuse of his fellow cellmate.

When his chest shuddered to take in a desperate breath, Mercedes was too horrified to scream. She stepped back to withdraw the lamp and found her wrist immediately ensnared by pale, wasted fingers.

A half-gasp, half-shriek burst from Mercedes' gaping mouth. In her shock the lamp plummeted from her hand and shattered on the floor within the cell. The spilled oil erupted into a pillar of flame and Mercedes came face-to-face with the creature holding her fast.

It seemed another form of demon, features fiery from the flame. Soon she realized it was a woman, emaciated and skeletal, but a human woman. Her eyes were wide and desperate, a maddened smile carved across her face. The woman's gaze flicked from Mercedes to the man breathing in the next cell.

"He can't hear you, girl. His Unholiness has seen to that. He keeps him quiet with his theriac and other potions. It makes harvesting them less… troublesome," the woman explained thoughtfully.

Mercedes wasn't sure how, but the woman's stench was worse than Giacomo's.

"And you… are to be harvested?" Mercedes asked. "Perhaps we can free you. We know a way out."

The woman's grip loosened as she cackled wildly, and Mercedes pulled her arm free. Giacomo's weakly drew her away from the bars.

"Us! Food?" She laughed. Every movement was made maniacal by the firelight. Another figure crawled forward next to her on their hands and knees. "Can you believe this child?" She asked the man at her side.

He shook his head and stared at Mercedes from dark, sunken eyes. Mercedes could not bear to meet his scrutiny, even in silence he was somehow more deranged than the woman.

_Had she said "food?" No that wasn't right. They would never… would they?_ Mercedes' stomach lurched, but she banished the thought.

"We are Master Marcelo's companions. We await him here so that we might bring him pleasure." The woman lunged at the bars and took hold of them with whitened knuckles. "Tell me, does he plan to visit soon? It has been months since we've felt his skin against ours. We would do anything he bid if only he would return to us."

She pet the head of the man at her side.

"Truth be told, I think this one may be going a bit mad," she told Mercedes in a conspiratorial tone.

"You don't want to leave?" Mercedes asked, confused.

"Our lover needs us as we need him. I would sooner fall on a knife than chance never again falling upon his exalted staff, such is its perfection," the woman announced with a moan. "Say you will tell him we miss him… that we're desperate for him," she pleaded.

"It's his power, he's destroyed her will, made her a mindless slave," Giacomo whispered. "We must leave them and get to the tunnel."

Mercedes' gaze lingered on the pair in the cell. What lives were they snatched from? Had they been a priest and an inn maid once? Now resigned by devilry to longing for carnal pleasures they may never experience again.  The woman's eyes pleaded so desperately, but she tore herself away. They continued on in the dark, their light source all but burned out on the cell floor.

Arms reaching forward, Mercedes eventually touched the wood of a door.

"Here," she softly exclaimed to Giacomo. "I've found it."

Her fingers explored the surface and found a handle. Above it was a keyhole. From her pocket she produced Altro's set of keys and she fumbled with them, trying each key in total darkness.

Sound from the direction of the stairwell became suddenly closer. Faint shouts and footfalls. Mercedes struggled with the next key, which blessedly unlocked the door. She gathered Giacomo to her and pressed it open.

"Let me go ahead a bit and I'll call to you if it's safe," she told him.

"Yes," he breathed, voice dripping fear.

Mercedes gripped him in her arms. "I won't leave you."

She turned to the tunnel and took a few steps forward while still reaching out. Ten steps in her shin struck something sharp and hard ahead. She swept downward with her hands and stumbled over a few jagged boulders. In attempting to circumvent them, she found they ran along the width of the tunnel. Stabs of panic ached in her chest.

More boulders were stacked behind the first row. As she felt higher she became certain the tunnel had intentionally been collapsed. Her fingers gouged and her fists pummeled, but the rocks would not give way. She climbed dangerously upon the boulders in the dark, but found no opening.

Giacomo heard her cries of dismay as loudly as he heard the approaching voices from the stairwell.

"They're coming!" He called, daring to speak above a whisper.

An agonizing groan ripped from Mercedes' throat. "It's sealed… they've collapsed the tunnel…" she cried, entirely out of hope. "I can't move it… I'm too weak…"

She heard him laboring toward her, and smelled him when he was close.

"You are strong, and you shall remain a beacon of light in this dark prison. I will not see them break you. Now take this." He suddenly pressed her overdress back into her hands. "And wait until they've captured me to return to your chamber."

As she was about to question him the wind was knocked out of her as Giacomo shoved her against the wall hard enough to send her to her knees.

The frantic shuffling of his feet told her he was running the other direction. When she saw his shadow sprint awkwardly by the fire he let out a lengthy scream, almost like a battle cry. It was filled with the same anguish and exhaustion that she felt. The mad priest was sacrificing himself so that she might return to her chamber unnoticed. She prayed his burst of determination could propel him up the stairs.

Mercedes crept out of the useless tunnel and closed the door behind her, locking it. She moved forward, careful to stay away from Marcelo's concubines and listened intently to whatever was happening above.

More of Giacomo's shouting and then the growling of Altro's brothers. The pounding of feet and a shriek of pain. Giacomo was silent and then he was screaming bloody murder, crying out as he was restrained. As the sounds of the struggle dampened, she moved toward the stairs. 

Soon she heard nothing and she raced up the staircase to her chamber. There was silence on her floor of the keep and she worried over where they had taken Giacomo.

Holding her breath, she entered her chamber to find it empty. Altro knew what she had done and yet it appeared his brother's had concluded their hunt with Giacomo's capture. It would be a matter of time before Altro revealed her deception to the Emeritus brothers.

Mercedes stared into the fire burning unusually wild and hot in the hearth. She threw the overdress that Giacomo had worn onto the flames. The smell of the fox-fur collar burning filled the air. After it was ashes, she tore off the kirtle she wore and it met the same fate. The scent of Giacomo and the dungeon died in the fire.

She paced, too frantic to relax until the next course of action revealed itself. When the first light of dawn began filtering through the windows a loud and persistent "THUD" cut through the silence. The sound of wood pounding wood. For a few minutes it continued and then all returned to quiet.

The sun crept higher in the sky and though it was a chilled October, the sky was a picturesque blue filled with lazy clouds.

Soon sounds like a keening animal in pain rose up and into her chamber. Mercedes closed her eyes and offered a small and seemingly impotent prayer. She could not see what punishment he was about to endure, but heard acutely his moans of anguish.

A menacing crack resounded outside, and reverberated off of the stone walls. Giacomo released a hoarse wail of pain and Mercedes could no longer remain in wait.

She threw a dressing gown over her shoulders and ran from the room toward the entrance. Even inside the halls, she heard the cracking of the whip outside. When she burst from the front doors she hauled herself around the side of the keep toward the large oak tree.

Altro and his five brothers stood ominously around Emeritus II with a whip gripped firmly in his fist. Marcelo stood somewhat anxiously off to the side. The closer she drew she saw Giacomo's body hunched and clutching desperately to a whipping post. His hands were tied and affixed to a notch in the wood. The rag that had previously covered him was lying discarded at his feet.

Mercedes approached Altro cautiously, but when she said his name, he did not look her way. He stared ahead blindly, without acknowledging her.

"If you can stop this, I beg you, please do it," she whispered. His brother, Well-of-Fire, glanced toward her briefly.

He continued to ignore her, but she saw that he had opened his hand where he clutched them tightly behind his back. She carefully removed his keys from her dressing gown pocket and slipped them into his waiting hand. He took them and deftly hid them away in his coat. Once again he was stone.

"Well-of-Fire," she appealed to his brother, whose eyes flared at his name. "Would you stop this torture?"

To his credit, he shared a crestfallen gaze before shaking his head and returning his attention to the punishment being carried out by his master.

In desperation she made herself known to Marcelo and took hold of his sleeve.

"What is this madness? Marcelo, you must stop this at once!" She begged him. "He will kill the man!"

"I am fortunate that my conduct yesterday did not warrant me the same treatment. My brother may go too far, but I risk being next if I interfere," he explained. He placed his hand over hers, but shook his head.

Mercedes wrenched her hand free and rounded on Emeritus II, who faced away from her. He wore a white under-tunic that was already gathering sweat, despite the chilled air. 

"Your Grace!" She called, but his rage was so wholly focused on his task that he did not register her presence. Emeritus II readied himself and landed a whistling blow about Giacomo's ribs. The whip withdrew and slung a ribbon of the priest's fresh blood back upon Emeritus II and Mercedes.

She was stunned to silence at the sight of the red on her white chemise. Giacomo's legs collapsed and he hung heavily by his abused wrists. He was quiet, but trembled fiercely.

Emeritus II nearly growled as he drew back his arm to strike again. Mercedes heaved herself upon the arm that held the whip. She was ripped forward and pitched to the ground before Emeritus II. She scrambled back until she felt Giacomo behind her.

"Please, Your Grace! I don't know how this man has wronged you, but I beg you to stop! You'll kill him!" She screamed up at the master of the keep. On hand and knee Mercedes crawled to him and then clutched her hands together in supplication. "Do not do this evil, I beg of you. Spare him… on my behalf."

Her voice had deteriorated into a whisper when she noticed the fury in his features. He was flushed red, each muscle straining beneath his skin. Looking upon her did not change his demeanor in the least.

_He's gone mad,_ she thought suddenly.

Emeritus II brought his arm back, ready to provide another lash, even if it be intercepted by her milky flesh. She sunk her fingers into the linen of his tunic.

"Papa, please… I'll do whatever you wish, stop this…" she sobbed against his thigh and braced herself for the crack of the whip, but instead she heard its tail flick against the dirt.

She peeked at it dangling beside her before she glanced up at Emeritus II. His eyes bore down into her, the previous intensity remained, but the emotion behind it had changed.

"Little martyr," Emeritus II taunted, his voice loud enough for all to hear. "Will you take the remainder of his punishment for yourself?" The handle of the whip moved to press up under her chin.

His question caused her to fumble over her words.

"You claimed that you would do whatever I wish in order for me to spare this man, did you not?" He leveled another question at her. 

Altro's brothers seemed to grow restless, almost… uneasy at his words.

"Yes, Your Grace," she nodded.

"Three lashes remain, and I would have you receive them in his stead. You know nothing of his misdeeds or how gravely your interference has undermined me." Mercedes turned to look at Giacomo, who she was not certain was still awake. His back was a torn tapestry of blood and wounds. She could not tell how many lashes he had endured, but she prayed she would survive three.

"Yes, Papa, I will take the punishment–"

"That is the remainder of his punishment. Your own punishment shall be attending to me in my chambers following supper tonight. You shall be responsible for all that I might require from one of my servants. Is that understood?" 

She nodded. "Yes, Your Grace. Thank you." She kissed the hem of his tunic and felt his hand sink into her hair.

"Such compassion for a stranger, an awesome display of your kind heart," Emeritus II praised her softly, so that only she might hear. "His life now rests in your hands."

"How so, Your Grace?" She asked, her brow creased in confusion.

"If you so value his life, you shall be the one to save it. I suppose he may survive his wounds, but only if he is tended to properly." He clicked his fingers and motioned to Altro's largest brother. "You will deposit this vermin in our lady's chamber so that she may care for him. I do hope you are not faint at the sight of blood, dear lady."

Mercedes shook her head, but was not so certain.

"I am doubtful that he will recover, and when he expires we shall have an anatomy lesson. You can study his decomposition at will as he rots in your chamber," Emeritus II laughed, thoroughly amused with himself. "What do you tell your Papa?" He drew the whip's handle along her jaw.

"I thank you, Papa," she replied immediately.

Altro's largest brother untied Giacomo from the whipping post and hauled him over one massive shoulder. Giacomo did not stir. She expected to be tied in his place, but no one approached her.

"Go and tend him," Emeritus II dismissed her. "You shall have your punishments tonight, and you can start at sundown by filling the basin for my bath."

Without delay, she followed the large creature carrying Giacomo. The priest was like a rag doll in his grip. She opened the front doors and ushered him to her chamber where again she held the door.

Altro's brother tossed him absently upon the bed. He landed facedown, which Mercedes was thankful for. The large creature bowed before leaving them alone.

The blood streaming across his back promptly stained a white fur beneath him. She had no bandages, no salves, nothing to care for him. She opened the chest by the door and found clean chemises and a few sheets. When she returned to him, she lifted his head to ensure he hadn't suffocated and angled his face to the side.

Using a pair of sheers from her desk, Mercedes cut the sheets and chemises into strips and began dressing his wounds. She worked until the bleeding was mostly contained. He seemed to stir a few times, but she preferred he remain unconscious.

When she was satisfied enough to pause, she stared at the drying blood that coated her hands. She wiped a sweaty brow on her sleeve and sighed.

"Discovering that actions have consequences, are we?" She heard a familiar voice chastise.

Altro stood in the doorway, and pulled the door shut as he took a step inside.

Perhaps it was the exhaustion or her desperate need for comfort, but in spite of herself she went to him and laid her head against his chest. He made no move to embrace her, but she felt his breath hitch. Altro watched the prone man on the bed.

"I wonder what you promised him in return for assisting in your escape?" He asked coolly.

Mercedes shook her head against him.

"Was it this agony between life and death? A betrayal and abandonment?" He continued.

Giacomo groaned from the bed. When Mercedes turned to him Altro took her face in both hands and forced her to look at him.

"I could crush your fragile form beneath my hands. Steal the life out of you and toss you from the window casement. Do you know, I wish I had never warned you that first day. If only you had jumped to your death..." His grip trailed to her throat, but he could not bring himself to squeeze.

She placed her blood-coated hands over his, and gently stroked his fingers.

"Did you offer yourself to him?" He choked, enraged, but barely a whisper. "Did you tell him he was the only one you wanted?"

"No, Altro. We sought only freedom. I may love you, but I am your master's prisoner," she breathed. Her chin quivered in her attempt to keep from crying.

"Love…" he scoffed and leaned the forehead of his mask against hers. "If you had trusted me… I would have gone with you." At this his voice carried only sadness.

Mercedes sobbed. "How can I know that's true?"

A light in his pale eyes dimmed. "You can never know now. Your secret is safe; I would hardly reveal my stupidity and weakness to my masters. I am as much at fault as you are," he reasoned.

"You are not stupid or weak, Altro," she responded, adding a kiss to his mask.

He held her at arms length and her back struck a bed post.

"But I am, and you have made me so. You've made me a fool and your priest a dead man," Altro snarled.

"I am at fault, and your hatred is warranted, but Giacomo doesn't deserve to die," she implored him. She knew of his softness for humanity and she tugged at the strand. "Like little Maria was too young and sweet for the fate that met her at the base of the keep."

At the mention of the girl offered to the Emeritus brothers prior to her Altro clamped his eyes shut.

"She was just a child and so afraid, and I am hardly any different. A few years older, but no less frightened of the evil the Emeritus brothers plan for me." 

He brought his head to her chest and the horns on his mask dug deep into her breastplate, deep enough that she gasped at the stab of pain.

"I didn't hurt her…" he sighed. "I spared her from the pain of her injuries. She was so small, I couldn't let her suffer."

Mercedes held him, and gritted her teeth against the pain of his horns.

"You set her free," she agreed softly.

He jerked suddenly away and a pair of cuts tore across Mercedes' upper chest.

"I shouldn't have come here, you're a white sorceress and you shan't bewitch me into being your accomplice… your slave," he accused her as he pulled open the door.

"Altro, I am no sorceress," she cried and followed him. At the door, his largest brother barred her way. He was standing guard outside. "It does nothing to serve me now, as I see your soft feelings for me are gone, but I do love you. I knew it last night when you showed yourself to me."

The distance between them grew as he moved down the hallway. When she pressed to go after him, his brother held her fast with a single arm and pushed her gently back into her chamber. She sunk down against the doorframe and cried into her folded arms. Altro's brother settled a black handkerchief upon her hand and she thanked him absently.

The next time Giacomo showed signs of movement she went to his side. Her bath water from the night before remained and she used a clean strip of sheet to wash his face. His breaths were shallow and he barely seemed to gather any air. She tried to talk to him, but he provided only delirious mutterings.

When he fell into a deep slumber Mercedes took up her sheers and cut away the majority of the filthy beard covering his mouth and face. Then she clipped the ratted lengths of his hair. Her hands were gentle as she stroked over what remained with a clean cloth. She wiped him clean as best she could.

Once she had finished, she collected the hair and soiled cloth and tossed them from the window. His stench had been halved and the metallic reek of blood overpowered it. At least something had improved.

Beneath the filth, she saw that Giacomo's skin was bone white. She covered his legs with a fur when he started to shiver.

"Father Copia," she murmured and pushed hair from his sweat-drenched forehead. "Giacomo, can you hear me?"

His eyes roved lazily, but did not fully open.

"Did… they… hurt you?" He managed to ask through dry lips.

"No, no, don't think of me. You're the one who's hurt, but I'll care for you. Could you drink water?" She gathered a goblet from the bedside table.

"I don't have… enough strength… to swallow it," he eventually answered.

"Here, you must try." Mercedes wet another cloth with drinking water and brought it to his lips. "Only a few drops if you can manage it."

She allowed a few droplets to fall in his open mouth and waited. He did not choke, but he groaned as he swallowed it down.

"There is… so much pain…" he huffed and a moment later he lost consciousness again.

Mercedes remained on her knees at the bedside and rested her head on the mattress. The lack of sleep from the previous night caught up with her and she dozed off within a few minutes.

* * *

A lengthy hand gripped her shoulder and jerked her awake. Mercedes quickly gathered her surroundings and saw Well-of-Fire beside her.

He stared at her hands and shook his head with a click of his tongue. They were still covered in blood. Well-of-Fire rubbed his hands together and pointed to the bath that remained from the night before.

She turned to wash her hands, but she was not quick enough for the short-tempered servant. He took her hands in his own and scrubbed them clean. Faint, rusty clouds floated out to color the water. When he was satisfied he dried her hands by wiping them on his coat.

He tugged off her bloody and dirty chemise before forcing a fresh one over her head. Without further preparation, he dragged her from the room by her wrist.

"I'm not decent," she argued and attempted to pull him to a halt. Her chemise was the only covering she wore. Even her feet were bare. The inverted silver cross was her only other adornment.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Also, a dear reader asked that it be made clear the main character is not underage.


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